


With A Love Like That

by exitpursuedbyabear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1960s, Arranged Marriage, Coming of Age, Drama & Romance, Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Multi, References to the Beatles, Slow Burn, Ted Loves the Beatles, Tw mentions of canon-and-era-typical corporal punishment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exitpursuedbyabear/pseuds/exitpursuedbyabear
Summary: It's September of 1963. Greengrocer's son Ted Tonks has finally learned why such strange things keep happening around him, and is ready to start his new life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Meanwhile, Andromeda Black, whose proud and prejudiced family claims magical ancestry dating back to the Norman Conquest, is ready to stop living in her sister's shadow and come into the light. How did a distinguished daughter of an ancient pure-blood house, raised to hate and scorn; and a caring, klutzy Muggle-born teen rocker with a talent for transfiguration escape the roles Wizarding Society prescribed them and find something more beautiful than wealth or power? Can friendship, music and magic provide the answers for a generation of young witches and wizards ready to stick it to the Man? And when will Arthur Weasley finally ask Molly Prewett to dance? A tale of love triumphant over hate, Rock 'n Roll over family pride, and a romance that transcends blood status.





	1. The Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> The backstory of Tonks' parents has been something I've wanted to explore for a while. This fic is a tribute to Rowling's gift for making even minor characters multifaceted and interesting. I'm still not 100% sure how this is going to be structured, obviously when following characters the whole way through their school experience, there is potential for any amount of content, as seven Harry Potter novels can attest. Obviously this is not going to be novel-length, however, I do have a lot of plans for various chapters, which will be in chronological order unless otherwise stated. The Harry Potter fictional universe belongs to JK Rowling, I merely elaborate for my own pleasure! Enjoy!

“Come _on_, Romy! Do you want to be the last ones on the train?” The older girl’s voice rang out impatiently, piercing through the foggy air as she emerged onto the busy platform.  
“I’m coming, I’m coming, this is heavy, you know! If you’d stop hogging Beastie and push your own things I’d be a bit faster, you’re bigger than me anyway, you don’t _need _an elf to carry it all!” her sister protested, panting, from a few feet behind her; her tone excited despite the effort of lugging a heavy trunk and a caged barn owl along on a rattling trolley.  
“If you don’t hurry everyone will already have found seats and we won’t get to choose where to go! You don’t want to sit with just _anyone _you know!” replied the first, rolling her heavy-lidded eyes in exasperation.

Bellatrix and Andromeda Black were almost identical in appearance. From the glittering darkness of their deep-set eyes to their sharp cheekbones and full, heart-shaped lips; the two oldest Black sisters bore an unmistakeable resemblance to one another. Their only visible differences were the warmer brown of Andromeda’s corkscrew curls next to the tumble of shining black ringlets adorning her older sister’s head, and perhaps three inches of height that Bellatrix had put on since starting at Hogwarts, being just over a year the elder. Their youngest sister, Narcissa, was quite different – thinner and paler, her white-blonde hair hung straight down her back. Eight years old and looking thoroughly miserable, she sat atop Bellatrix’s luggage on its trolley, sucking her thumb and sniffling as the pile of bags seemed to trundle along of its own accord.

“If you please, Miss Bella and Miss Romy’s parents isn’t seeing them for some months now!” came a squeaky voice from behind the mountain of luggage preceding the girls along the platform. “You isn’t wanting your mother to hear that her girls is fighting just when they is off to Hogwarts, young Mistresses!” The creature the voice was coming from drew stares from the other students boarding the train. Despite its neglected appearance – dressed in a scrap of old blanket, with a homely face and a squashed, snout-like nose that appeared to have been broken more than once – those who recognised it as a house-elf knew it represented seriously old money. The girls it was accompanying, however, seemed relatively unimpressed by their own good fortune, as Bellatrix scowled at the elf pushing her trunk, broom and cat-carrier and Andromeda hauled her own bags behind her.  
“Beastie, you know Mama would be horrified if we ended up sitting with any old scum on the train, I want to find Euphemia and the Lestranges before all the seats are gone!” spat Bellatrix, while glaring at Andromeda. “If _somebody _doesn’t get a move on, we’re going to end up making nice with the Prewetts, or worse, explaining to some ignorant mudblood the difference between a galleon and a knut.” She laughed derisively, before glancing ahead to see Narcissa still weeping as the elf pushed her along. Bellatrix pursed her lips before apparently relenting somewhat. “Hush, Cissy, we’ll be back before you know it. I’ll write every week this year, Romy will let me borrow Damocles, won’t you, Romy?” She looked pointedly at the middle sister, who was pushing her trunk and owl to a stop in front of the train door. Having caught her breath, Andromeda, too, realised the sorry state of her youngest sister and abandoned her trolley to lift her down from Bellatrix’s.  
“There there, Ciss, I’m sorry I have to go away but it won’t be long until you start at Hogwarts, too! And yes, Bella, I suppose you can borrow him to write to Cissy. I probably won’t be sending that many letters anyway. I’ll write home as soon as I’m sorted, though!”  
Bellatrix rolled her eyes again, as their industrious elf began hauling the girls’ bags onto the train for them. She planted her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at Andromeda.  
“You’ll be in Slytherin. The whole family is, it’s tradition, you know. Anyway, Mama and Papa would throw a fit if you weren’t.”

Andromeda blushed as she looked up at her eldest sibling, who had stepped up into the carriage doorway, adding to their difference in height.  
“They wouldn’t really, would they? I mean, of course I want to be in Slytherin, Bella, but what if I get put somewhere else? You don’t get much say, do you? And you _still _won’t tell me what the test is to decide!” Receiving no satisfactory answer as Bellatrix scoffed and turned to make her way further down the carriage, Andromeda turned back to Narcissa, still sniffling on the platform, now holding the hand of the harried-looking Beastie. “Cheer up, Ciss, maybe Mama can take you over to Uncle Orion’s house if you’re lonely? Cousin Sirius is only three, he needs a big grown-up girl like you to set him an example! And say hello to him from me, will you? I don’t think he’s that happy about me going away, either.”  
“I don’t wanna play with cousin Sirius, last time I went he got Drooble’s in my hair!” whined Narcissa, as the whistle blew on the platform and her sister drew her close and kissed the top of her golden head.  
“Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean to, dear” Andromeda replied, smiling, but inwardly reflecting that he probably had. “And baby Reggie should be harmless enough if you don’t want to play with Sirius. Bye-bye, now – take care of her, Beastie, and tell Mama and Papa we’ll write!” She jumped into the carriage as a guard came along to shut the door.  
“_ROMYYY!” _Came Bellatrix’s voice from the next carriage.  
“Coming!” Andromeda called as the train started to move. She waved to Narcissa and the elf on the platform, as Beastie called after her:  
“Farewell Miss Romy! Good luck at Sorting, Miss Romy must follow her sister’s lead and honour the noble house of Black!”

And just like that, the figures on the platform disappeared in the train’s smoky wake. Andromeda turned, and hurried to follow her sister through the carriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading Chapter 1! Chapter 2 will be up shortly, in which we meet Ted on board the train! Please feel free to leave feedback in comments xx


	2. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Introducing Ted, along with some of my other favourite characters. Enjoy! xx

Ted Tonks’ mind was still spinning as the train started to move. He had come to the station with his proud but anxious mother and stared hopelessly at the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Just as he had started to wonder whether it was all some kind of horrible joke and perhaps they should get back in the car and go home, he had seen two older, auburn-haired boys and a redhead girl, laden with luggage and (he realised with a jolt) an owl in a cage glance furtively around, run straight at the barrier and disappear. He and his Mum had goggled, but then he had steeled himself, grabbed her hand and dragged her through. Gasping, the stocky, sandy-haired boy and his slight, worn-looking mother had emerged onto a platform crawling with teenagers at least as odd as Ted had ever been. There were owls aplenty, broomsticks and cauldrons strapped to trunks. There were parents enrobed and pointy-hatted, but Ted had noted with relief that a few were in normal clothes, looking just as mind-blown as his poor Mum. All around them kids chatted animatedly about Quidditch and Gobstones, while teary mothers bade their children farewell and begged them to please, please not levitate anything they shouldn’t this term. Meanwhile their fathers complained, not about Beatlemania or the Profumo affair, but about the state of the ‘Ministry of Magic’ and the need for stricter werewolf legislation with ‘Greyback’ on the loose.

Ted had hauled his trunk – he had no broom or owl, and few enough sets of new robes that his new cauldron fitted inside it – onto the train and into a luggage rack, and kissed his Mum goodbye, promising to write at least once a week and to stay out of trouble. He’d watched her be guided back to the barrier by a red-robed guard and jumped when another had slammed the train door behind him.

As the train chugged away from the station, Ted’s Mum vanished from view – through the barrier or the haze of smoke, he wasn’t sure – and he gulped and turned his attention to trying to find a seat. Most of the other students, he was relieved to see as he passed them, still wore fairly normal clothing – or some attempt at it. He supposed they would change into their uniform robes when they got to the school. There were the usual jeans, slacks and polo shirts, and everything from tea dresses to capris among the girls. But here and there it almost seemed as if a student (or their parents) had really _tried_ to dress them like anybody else; but had got it all wrong. As he scanned the packed, noisy carriage for seats, he finally spotted four around a table in the corner, of which three were empty. In the fourth sat a boy, perhaps a little older than Ted, reading a comic book. On the cover Ted could make out “_The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_”. Muggle. He remembered that word – the man from Hogwarts had used it: the gruff man who had come to present Ted with his acceptance letter and explain to his parents why the apples in their greengrocer’s shop would sometimes inexplicably sprout toffee coatings on the shelf, and why it was Ted’s fault and why this was really a good thing. It meant “non magic folks”, and Ted didn’t _think _it was an insult. He resolved to sit in the seat opposite this boy, who (apart from his odd outfit of blue pyjama bottoms paired with what would otherwise have been a pretty cool Pendleton jacket) seemed relatively harmless. A head of bright red hair was just visible from behind the comic, which was lowered in response to Ted’s polite “Hello!”

“Oh, hullo there! Are you a first-year? I don’t think we’ve met” said the redheaded boy. Now he had put down his comic Ted could see that he had a round face, blue eyes, and ears that stuck out a bit under his gingery hair, and that he wore glasses. He looked about thirteen.  
“Um, yeah, I’m new. What’s your name? I’m Ted, by the way. Ted Tonks.”  
“Oh, that’s nice, I’ll see you at the Sorting then! And it’s Arthur Weasley, I’m in third year. What house do you think you’ll be in? I’m in Gryffindor, so were my brothers, but they’ve left now.”  
“Oh, I don’t know. I know there’s four houses but I’m not sure which one I’m in yet” Ted shrugged. Arthur pushed his glasses up his nose, thoughtfully.  
“Well it normally runs in families, doesn’t it? Which house were your parents in?”

Ted realised that this boy thought his Mum and Dad were magic, too. He wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or not. “Oh, um… they’re not, you know, wizards or anything. It was a big surprise when I got the letter! But it sort of made sense, weird stuff always happens around me, we just didn’t realise it was magic.” He blushed a little as he realised Arthur was staring at him, wide-eyed.  
“Oh so you’re _Muggle-born_!”  
“Um, yeah?” There was a beat of silence. Then:  
“That’s so _cool!_” This was a relief for Ted, who had been starting to worry he would be the odd one out, and that everyone else would know much more than him when school started.  
“Oh, good, is it?” he asked, now wondering how it could possibly be cool _not _to have grown up with witches and wizards for parents. The older boy nodded vigorously.  
“Oh, definitely, its… I mean, you might find one or two people get a bit weird about it, but I’m really interested in the way Muggles live without magic, maybe you can teach me about–”

But what Ted could teach Arthur remained unclear, as he was interrupted by a girl sticking her head through the compartment door, then shouting back over her shoulder:  
“Quick, Romy, there’s two here… oh.” The girl had turned back to them, looked from Arthur to Ted and back, and her face fell. As the corner of her mouth turned back up in a sneer, another girl appeared behind her. Obviously sisters, Ted thought. They were both very pretty, and they were both already wearing their school robes. He didn’t have much time to take this in, however, before the first girl spoke again.

“Never mind, the blood traitor’s got here first. New friend, Weasley? Suppose it must be lonely, now your precious brother’s not here to take points off everyone who thinks you’re a weirdo. Let me guess, interrogating the Mudbloods? Leave that to me – hey, Tubby, kneazles got your tongue? What’s your surname?” She said all of this without pausing to let anyone else speak, and Ted reflected that for someone whose dark eyelashes and corkscrew curls made her look like a stiff Victorian doll, it was a shame that her mouth was moving so much. Feeling brave, he raised an eyebrow.  
“What’s it to you?” he asked. He noticed the rude girl’s sister take a step back behind her, staring. Apparently they hadn’t anticipated his response, since the black-haired girl who had demanded his name sucked in a breath as her face contorted, rendering her patrician features suddenly much uglier.  
“How DARE you? Don’t you _know_ who we are?!”  
“Don’t drag me into this, Bella” muttered her sister, taking another step back.  
“Shut up, Romy! This boy’s going to give me an answer or I’ll teach him who he’s messing with.” She pulled her wand from within her robes and trained it on Ted. It occurred to him that as making friends at his new school went, this was a mixed start.  
“Stop it, Bella, Mama said no more duelling! You’ll get us all in trouble–”  
“_Tell me your name now or I’ll–”  
_“Everything alright, Black?”

In the door stood two much older boys. They, too, had already changed into their robes – and, recognising their chestnut hair, Ted realised they were the same ones he had seen go through the barrier between platforms. Seeing Arthur’s panicked expression turn to one of relief, he wondered if they were his siblings. Then, the redheaded girl who had been with these boys at the station bounced into view behind them, pushing past the two taller girls to see what was going on. She was younger, petite, running to plump; with a freckly, heart-shaped face. Her ginger hair was as curly as the other girls’ – but while theirs was neatly pulled back into rag-curls, hers was ratted up in a messy bob. Her lively brown eyes surveyed the situation with interest, before she spotted Arthur and waved cheerfully. Arthur, waving back, turned distinctly pink around the ears. _Nope_, Ted thought, _definitely not siblings_. Meanwhile the rude girl, Bella, had wheeled to face the older boys, tucking her wand away guiltily. In the background her brunette sister looked, if possible, more embarrassed than Arthur. The rest of the carriage were all turning to watch the scene unfold.

The elder of the two auburn-haired boys stood with his hands on his hips, regarding Bella and her sister with an appraising look. Ted noticed a red, shield-shaped badge on his chest, embossed with a gold letter ‘P’.  
Ted’s suspicions were confirmed when he saw Arthur mouth across the table “He’s a Prefect!”  
He saw Bella open her mouth, but the Prefect raised a hand and she shut it again.  
“Would anybody like to explain what’s going on in here?” he asked lazily. Silence. He rephrased his question. “Miss Black, can you tell me why you were pointing your wand at that boy who, if I’m any judge, is a new first-year?” Cornered, the girl scowled.  
“He disrespected me.” The Prefect sighed.  
“Yes, I thought it might be something like that.” He turned to Ted “What’s your name, kid?” he asked. The question had been asked politely, and Ted had a feeling withholding the information from a Prefect was probably a significantly worse idea.  
“Tonks, Sir. Ted Tonks.” The Prefect smiled.  
“I’m no Sir, kiddo, just Gideon.” He turned back to Bella. “Miss Black, as term has not technically started, I don’t think I can give you detention. I suggest you find another carriage, and I will be reporting this incident to Professor Slughorn. I assume this is your younger sister?” The other girl, wincing, nodded. “Don’t look so worried, you’re not in trouble. But I wouldn’t take your sister’s little demonstration as an example of how to make a good first impression at Hogwarts, if I were you. Run along now!”

With a scathing look at Gideon, Arthur and especially Ted, Bella grabbed her sister’s hand and towed her out of the compartment. The younger girl just had time to mouth a mortified “Sorry!” back at Ted and Arthur before she was whisked from sight.

There was a prolonged pause. Ted turned to Arthur.  
“What house were _they _in?”  
Arthur tutted. “Slytherin. Well, Bellatrix is, the sister’s a first-year like you so she’s not been sorted yet but no prizes for guessing where she’ll end up. Slytherins are known for being a bit…” he glanced at Gideon “…Tetchy.”  
“I dunno, I thought the younger one seemed all right” Ted mused. Arthur shrugged.  
“The whole Black family is as mad as a box of frogs. Except my mum anyway, and she got disowned.”  
“You’re _related _to them?!”  
“Distantly. Most of the pure-blood families are related at this point because snobs like the Blacks won’t let their kids marry Muggles. Or Muggle-borns. They only have so many options.”

Gideon cleared his throat. “Try not to turn him against any whole families before he even gets off the train, Arthur.” He peered at Ted, thoughtfully. “What did you say to her, anyway?”  
Ted bit his lip. “She wanted to know my surname; I didn’t tell her.”  
Gideon frowned. “You Muggle-born by any chance?”  
Ted was already getting fed up being asked about this. “Yes.”  
Gideon’s expression softened, but he continued to look concerned. “All right, you didn’t hear it from me, but I really would steer clear of Bellatrix Black if I were you. Arthur’s not lying, the family are all a bit funny about people with Muggle blood”. He turned to his brother and sister. “I have to keep patrolling; I’ll see you later, OK?” They nodded, and Gideon inclined his head to Ted and Arthur before turning and walking off out the other end of the carriage.

Grinning, his sister plonked herself down beside Arthur, leaving the other chestnut-haired boy to sit in the remaining seat next to Ted. She picked up _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, The Mad Muggle _from the table and looked over the cover.  
“I haven’t seen these before, are they any good?” She asked, leafing through the comic.  
“Well, they’re pretty new, but Dad picked one up for me on his way back from work once and, well, _I_ like them.”  
“Of course you do.” She passed the comic back to Arthur, who returned to hiding behind it. Looking up at Ted, she smiled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced – I’m Molly Prewett, this” she pointed at the boy now sitting next to Ted, who smiled, “is my brother Fabian, and our oldest brother Gideon you’ve already met. I’m a third-year, Fabian’s in the fifth year and Gideon’s in the sixth. Did you say your name was Ed?” She asked, pulling a skein of dark red wool out of a bag by her feet.  
“Ted.” he corrected her, watching in fascination as she cast a row of knitting onto her wand. “Don’t you need that for other stuff?”  
“What?” said Molly absently, now knitting the row off the wand and onto a single knitting needle. “Oh, this?” She held up the wand, now free of stitches, and stuck it back in her pocket. “No, that’s all I needed it for, watch this!” and she extracted a second knitting needle from the bag, held it up to the knitting and let go. The needles immediately started knitting by themselves, hovering in mid-air, as Ted stared. “I can do it the Muggle way too, I have to over the holidays, but it’s so much slower I usually just wait until I get back to school.” She tapped the needles with her wand, and they started knitting double time, so fast that the tips were a blur. “There! Now all I have to do is control the pattern. I didn’t have any projects in mind, but then _someone_” – she looked pointedly at Fabian, who rolled his eyes – “Forgot his scarf. Well, I’m not letting you catch your death!” she declared to her ruefully smiling brother.  
“Whatever you say” he laughed, “You know Mum will just send the old one with the first post, right?”  
“Well, then you’ll have two. Rate you lose things, you’ll be glad of it soon enough! Colovaria!” She pointed her wand at the ball of wool, which changed colour from red to gold, and started knitting a gold stripe.

This went on for some time. By the time the sun was setting in the left-hand windows of the train, and an elderly witch pushing a trolley had sold them all fistfuls of sweets, cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties, Molly had knitted four feet of red and gold-striped scarf. Meanwhile, Arthur and Fabian introduced Ted to Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Botts’ Every Flavour Beans and a kind of gobstopper that changed flavour as well as colour with each layer, although with mercifully less variety than the Every Flavour Beans. Molly halted her needles with another tap from her wand, explaining “I have to do the last bit by hand if I’m working his initials into the pattern”, bundled the knitting back into her bag and left the compartment to find a friend, leaving the boys to change into their school robes. She came back to collect her trunk just as the train started to slow down, and when it stopped they all piled out onto a platform signed ‘Hogsmeade Station’.

They parted ways there, as the older students piled into old-fashioned carriages which, Ted assumed, had been updated to run by motor since there were no horses between the shafts. Ted, meanwhile, had been guided into a crocodile of equally nervous 11-year-olds led by the gruff old man who had delivered his Hogwarts letter. They had been paired off and shepherded into small rowing boats on a choppy lake, which – as Ted stepped in after his partner, who introduced himself as Archie Macmillan – began to glide smoothly across the water of their own accord, taking the first-years out of the village and into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, chapter 3 will be out in the next couple of days! If you're enjoying this work so far, please leave a comment and you can subscribe to be notified when I post future chapters!


	3. A Quarrelsome Hat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Andromeda arrives at Hogwarts, and argues with a hat.

The first-years – cold, wet and anxious – piled into the Entrance Hall with an enthusiasm largely born of their desire to get out of the rain. The Gamekeeper, Ogg, who had guided them across the lake, grunted a farewell and shuffled off to find his seat at the feast. Just as they were wondering what they ought to do now and began milling about in the way of unexpectedly unsupervised kids everywhere; the door to the Great Hall opened again and a tall, thin wizard with greying brown hair and beard emerged through it and spread his arms wide in greeting. He introduced himself as Professor Dumbledore, the Deputy Head, and encouraged them to follow him through into the Great Hall.

The hall was as big and impressive as Andromeda had expected, with the enchanted ceiling depicting the night sky, exactly as Bellatrix had described it. Hundreds of faces, glowing pale gold in the candlelight, looked up from the four house tables as the first-years entered. At the head of the hall, behind the gaggle of uncertain first-years and looking down on the room from a dais, sat a collection of adults: teachers and other staff members, looking on with interest. Professor Dumbledore did not re-join them, however, but rather reached inside his robes and pulled out a battered, drab brown object, and placed it on a three-legged stool in front of the first-years. Andromeda realised it was a particularly ancient and moth-eaten wizard’s hat, much patched and darned over what looked like centuries. Everyone in the Hall stared at it, waiting for something to happen. Then, a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the Hat began to sing:

_Oh listen, friends, and you may hear_  
_A tale of wizards four,_  
_Fair Ravenclaw, sweet Hufflepuff,_  
_Courageous Gryffindor._  
_And also wily Slytherin,_  
_That master of ambition;_  
_These four great friends one day did meet_  
_The need for a decision._

_For Ravenclaw, she said “I’ll teach_  
_Those who excel in learning”._  
_And Gryffindor, he valued each_  
_with gallant valour burning._  
_And Slytherin prized only those_  
_of heritage refined._  
_Said Hufflepuff, “No provisos_  
_As long as they are kind!”_

_So, Gryffindor enchanted me_  
_To settle this debate._  
_My job is now to look and see_  
_Which house will make you great!_  
_So try me on and worry not_  
_For I know best of all_  
_Where will most valued be the gifts_  
_That to each student fall._

_But hearken now unto my song,_  
_For I must counsel lend!_  
_There comes a time when every house_  
_Will need their every friend._  
_For out of magic’s darkest branch_  
_Comes forth its darkest foe._  
_Oh, heed my words, we must unite!_  
_No more division sow!_

_So, though I now must classify_  
_Each one of you by nature,_  
_I urge you not to isolate_  
_Yourselves, or be a stranger._  
_For only when at Hogwarts_  
_All the houses stand as one_  
_Can Wizardkind hope to resolve_  
_The feud that has begun._

_But one and all, come forth and I_  
_Shall see where you belong._  
_Rememb’ring that, though different all,_  
_Together we are strong._  
_So sally forth, don’t be afraid!_  
_I’ll sort each wizard brat,_  
_I’ll see of what stuff you are made,_  
_For I’m the Sorting Hat!_

The room burst into applause, and the Hat took a bow to each of the four tables. Andromeda watched as Professor Dumbledore twiddled his wand and conjured a list of names. He caught it, cleared his throat, and called out:

“Aarons, Caroline!”  
A slim, black-haired girl tiptoed forward to stare at the Hat. A ruddy-cheeked, blonde boy standing next to Andromeda whispered with relief “It wasn’t me! My Dad said our family is always sorted first!” With an inquiring glance at Professor Dumbledore, who nodded, the girl sat down on the three-legged stool and gingerly lowered the singing Hat onto her head. There was a few seconds’ pause. Then the rip that served the Hat as a mouth opened, and in a booming voice it announced  
“Ravenclaw!”

The table second from the left exploded with cheers, as the girl, looking pleased, handed the Hat back to Professor Dumbledore and scampered over to join them.

“Abbott, Euan!”  
Andromeda watched as the blonde boy next to her took a deep breath, then walked forward and sat down on the stool. The Hat had barely touched his head when it cried “Hufflepuff!” The boy nodded, looking unsurprised, and removed the hat, handing it to “Beckett, Chloe”, and marched off to be welcomed by the enthusiastic Hufflepuff table, which erupted again as Chloe Beckett, too, joined their ranks.

“Black, Andromeda.” Andromeda swallowed and stepped forward, catching her sister’s eye as she nodded encouragement from over at the Slytherin table. She sat down and pulled the hat on, Bellatrix’s face disappearing into the gloom as the hat fell over her eyes.

Then she heard the Hat speak, and it sounded quieter, reedier, and she understood it was speaking only to her.  
“Ah, another Black? Interesting, interesting. Plenty of brains here, I see. Not quite the appetite for status I’m used to from your family, though! There’s an altruism here, too, hmmm…. Very interesting… And courage! My word, you’re ready to take on the world, aren’t you, girl?”

Andromeda felt this was not as certain a result as she had been hoping for. The Abbott boy had been put in the house of his fathers without a second thought, hadn’t he?  
“Please, I want to be in Slytherin”, she whispered, as images whirled through her head: Bellatrix, her jaw dropped in disbelief, and her parents’ looks of disgust as they read her first letter home. Her whole family had been in Slytherin, for all of living memory. Her aunt Walburga had even decorated her house in the green and silver colours of its standard.  
“Slytherin, really, dear?” mused the Hat “Of course, your blood is as pure as that of any witch alive, but really, my girl, are you sure? You haven’t got the right shifty turn of mind – what about Gryffindor, dear, I think you’ll find it suits your principles better!”  
Andromeda gulped. “Please, my parents will kill me if I’m not in Slytherin, it’s where I belong, please!” She was painfully aware that she’d been sitting there for some time, the Hat still over her eyes her only defence against the stares of the whole school.  
“Well, a healthy sense of self-preservation _is _a valued Slytherin trait” muttered the Hat. “Someone should have words with your family, at least once a generation I have this argument, and does it ever make the odd ones happy? No! I remember your second cousin Cedrella, I put her in Slytherin in the end but much good it did her, disowned all the same ten years later.”  
Andromeda tried to remember if she ever knew she had a second cousin Cedrella.  
“Well, if you’re certain Slytherin is where you want to be...?” asked the Hat.  
“Positive!” Andromeda whispered, terrified.  
“Well then, if you insist, no point dithering, I’ll put you in _SLYTHERIN!_”

The last word nearly deafened Andromeda as the Hat shouted it to the room and, dizzy with relief, she yanked the offending Hat off her head and practically ran to join her cheering sister at the Slytherin table, where a number of Bellatrix’s friends reached over to shake her hand. She collapsed onto the bench, dazed, as Bellatrix whispered “What on _Earth_ was that about?” Andromeda felt a little sick. “No idea” she muttered, as Bellatrix turned to her neighbour and asked  
“How long was that?” The boy looked at his watch, a beautiful creation in silver on which Roman numerals glowed emerald.  
“Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Nearly a Hatstall!”  
“But why would it–”  
“Hush!” The boy who had checked his watch put his finger to his lips and pointed back at the top table.

“Lestrange, Rabastan!”  
“SLYTHERIN!” the Hat screamed as soon as it touched the hair of a pale, good-looking boy with shoulder-length brown curls rather reminiscent of a 17th-century portrait. As he trotted over to join them at the table, Andromeda realised that the boy with the watch sported the same haircut, as well as sharing Rabastan’s aquiline nose. Then she remembered that these were the friends that Bellatrix had wanted to find on the train. Come to think of it, her father had mentioned a Lestrange when reminiscing about his own schooldays. In the time it had taken her to recover from her conversation with the Hat, Andromeda noticed that she had missed the addition of more first-years to her new house – two rather thuggish-looking boys now sat looking around rather bemusedly a little further down the table. Similarly, several boys had swollen Gryffindor’s ranks, and a very pretty girl with waist-length blonde hair and wide blue eyes had joined the Ravenclaw table. Bellatrix whispered that her name was Pandora Goldstein, and that she was a half-blood. As “Macmillan, Archibald” joined Hufflepuff house, Andromeda wondered why the Hat had been so determined to place her anywhere other than Slytherin. And what had it meant when it said “once a generation I have this argument”? Were there other members of her family who had had to beg and plead to be placed in their ancestral house? Or perhaps still others who had been placed elsewhere, and disowned as a consequence? The idea didn’t really bear thinking about. Andromeda shivered – at least that wasn’t her.

On and on the Sorting went, with students making their way in a surprisingly even split towards the four House tables. By the time Professor Dumbledore reached “Shacklebolt, Belladonna”, more than one stomach was rumbling insistently on the Slytherin benches as she joined them. Andromeda was vaguely wondering what dinner would bring when she heard him call out “Tonks, Edward”.

That was the chubby blonde boy Bella had nearly hexed on the train. Andromeda saw her sister scowl as he took the Hat and was swiftly declared a Hufflepuff, to continued applause despite the long process and grumbling bellies – apparently the Hufflepuffs were determined to welcome every new student politely, however far down the alphabet their name might be. Finally, “Yaxley, Corban” became a Slytherin and “Zabini, Luca” a Gryffindor, and the Headmaster stood up.

As Professor Dumbledore picked up the Hat and returned to his seat, Professor Dippet (the rather wizened little Headmaster) began a speech that was, in Andromeda’s opinion, far too long to be given before dinner. It started with “Thank you, Albus! And now that you have all been sorted, I would like to say a few words…” and was accompanied throughout by the disgusted mutterings of hungry students. Andromeda noticed that even a few of the staff seemed to be tapping their toes, especially an enormous young man seated next to Ogg, whose bright black eyes darted back and forth along the top table as if hoping to find that dinner had been served while he wasn’t looking. Even Professor Dumbledore, whose expression of polite interest had not shifted since Professor Dippet had started speaking, was sipping from his goblet of water every few seconds; perhaps to fill his own empty stomach until food arrived. Oblivious, the Headmaster ploughed on; until finally, when Andromeda had taken to counting the candles that floated overhead, the words “…can hope to become a credit to our school, as we contemplate what we wish to achieve in the year ahead. Thank you!” drifted into her consciousness.

At last the Headmaster sat down, and all of a sudden the tables groaned with wonderful food. Andromeda saw roast chicken and beef Wellington, mashed potatoes and sausages, huge tureens of gravy, soups and vegetables. There were pigs in blankets, pumpkin pasties and roast potatoes, even fish and chips. There were platters of lettuce accompanied by bottles of anonymous ‘salad cream’, which Bellatrix was inspecting with a look of distaste. There were strange gelatine concoctions and, Andromeda noticed with confusion, bowls of mint humbugs. She raised an eyebrow as Bella shrugged and said “Don’t ask me, they were there last year, too.”

Andromeda filled her plate up with a selection of the less experimental-looking options and found them to be excellent. Their hunger satisfied, the Slytherins became considerably more outgoing, chattering away about the food and comparing Chocolate Frog cards extracted from pockets. Another new girl, Belladonna Shacklebolt, became the first to push her plate away from where she sat opposite Andromeda. She looked West Indian, with glowing ebony skin and bright, almond-shaped brown eyes. She was very pretty, and Andromeda wondered if she was watching her figure, to stop eating when everyone else was still scarfing down second helpings of meat and vegetables. Rather self-conscious, Andromeda abandoned her own plate and introduced herself and Bellatrix, feeling it was time to start making friends around here.

“Hello, it’s Belladonna, isn’t it? I’m Andromeda, and this is my sister, she’s a Bella, too!”  
The girl smiled winningly, and said “Call me Donna, then! You’re lucky to be in the same house, my brother’s in Ravenclaw,” she pointed out a tall, dark-skinned boy at the far end of the Ravenclaw table, deep in conversation with the first girl to be sorted, Caroline Aarons. “But he’s pretty boring anyway, just wants to read and read, wants a career in the Ministry, see?” If Donna was West Indian, it didn’t show in her accent, which could have been that of a Wizarding Wireless newsreader.

One of the two tough-looking boys who had been sorted after Andromeda ambled over from the other end of the table. “Are you done with that?” he asked, pointing at a platter of cod and chips.  
“Yes, do have it!” Andromeda replied, pushing it towards him – but no sooner had the boy reached for it than it disappeared, to be replaced by mounds of jelly and ice cream, syrup sponges and pineapple upside-down cake. The boy’s look of disappointment was quickly replaced by greed as he instead grabbed an entire steamed pudding and carried it back to his friend.  
“Oh, you must be Richard Crabbe!” called Bellatrix after him, “Do pass on our father’s regards to your family!”

Crabbe looked over his shoulder and grunted, before turning and bearing the pudding away. As she helped herself to red and yellow jelly, Andromeda noticed that the boy from the train – Tonks, his name was Tonks, she remembered – had wandered over to the Gryffindor table and was once again conversing with the redhead boy Bella had addressed as Weasley. She winced at the recollection, and Bellatrix misread her recurring embarrassment. “Indigestion? You shouldn’t have eaten so much fish and chips, I don’t understand why they have it – it isn’t even Friday! And anyway, there’s something terribly _Muggle_ about fish and chips in my opinion, all that grease is just typical of the swill they eat.” Bella was simply parroting their father’s opinions, Andromeda knew, so she contented herself with a plaintive “I _like _fish and chips!”

Bellatrix tutted. “Come on, if you’re not feeling well you should really go to bed – you’ll have classes in the morning! I’ll show you to the common room.” She turned to her neighbours; “Anyone know the new password?” The older Lestrange boy nodded, finished his mouthful of upside-down cake and custard and said “I asked Bode, it’s _noblesse oblige._” Bellatrix gave him a radiant smile. “Thank you, Rodolphus! Anyone else coming?” Belladonna nodded:  
“I don’t know where the common room is, do you mind if I come with?” Bellatrix quirked an eyebrow, then replied “Not at all, follow me.” Donna got up and the three of them made their way down to the dungeons.

Lying in her four-poster bed later that night, mercifully warmed by the hot bedpan she had found in it on first entering the dormitory, Andromeda reflected that the Slytherin common room had not made the most welcoming sight. Being underground, the Slytherins’ living quarters were noticeably colder than the Great Hall, and the dormitories were lit only by oil lamps, while the magically reinforced windows in the grey stone walls of the common room looked out – not over the grounds, but underwater into the lake. She supposed this would make the common room almost as gloomy by day as it was by night; although watching fish and Grindylows swim past on her way to the dormitory had been interesting. Now she watched as Donna unpinned and removed her tall bouffant hairdo, (which Andromeda now realised was a wig) and placed it carefully atop her bedside table. The door opened and another girl – Andromeda thought her name might be Greengrass – walked in and made silently for the remaining bed in the small dorm. She unlocked her trunk, rifled through it for a towel and nightie, then disappeared again, presumably to the bathroom. Bellatrix had already bidden Andromeda and Donna goodnight and gone upstairs to the second-year dorm. As feet thundered past outside the door – the rest of the students coming back from the feast – Andromeda sat up and drew the hangings shut around her bed, wishing Donna a quiet “Good night!”

She lay back, exhausted after a long day of travel and new experiences. Too tired even to re-set her rag curls; she decided they would do fine for another day but promised herself she would set them again tomorrow evening – as Bella liked to say, and as she felt sure Donna would agree: it was important to keep up appearances. And with that, yawning, Andromeda fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as always, leave a comment if you're enjoying so far! I'm really excited where this story is going and I can't wait to get the next few chapters out to you all! xx


	4. Pins and Needles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ted attends his first day of classes, and learns he is better at some things than others.

On the first morning of term, Ted ventured down to the Great Hall for breakfast, with only a slight diversion thanks to a staircase that refused to lead the right way. He found his year mates, Archie Macmillan and Euan Abbott, already seated at the Hufflepuff table when he arrived.  
“Morning! Archie reckoned we should let you sleep, but I was about to come and wake you anyway, we can’t miss breakfast on our first day of class!” said Euan cheerfully, pouring Ted a cup of tea as he sat down. Ted had felt only a slight twinge of disappointment not to be placed in a house with Arthur and Molly from the train, but it had largely abated by the time he had finished dinner with the Hufflepuffs the night before. Everyone had been so welcoming, and his four-poster bed, with its yellow and black quilt, had been very comfortable.

“Cheers, Euan!” said Ted, accepting the tea and helping himself to toast, eggs and bacon. “Diggory’s on the way down, he was dressing when I left.” Ted was already very happy with his new life at this bizarre school. He had looked at himself in the mirror that morning, as he tied the Hufflepuff tie that had been laid out on his trunk in the night; and felt that – even with his scruffy blonde hair and chubby cheeks – he didn’t look half bad. He was even more impressed with the breakfast spread laid on in the Great Hall; he had assumed that last night’s feast had been a one-off extravagance, and that the return of grey, slimy school dinners was imminent – but no. Ted resolved to try a bit of everything as, polishing off his eggs and bacon, he helped himself to porridge.

As Amos Diggory, their remaining dorm mate, arrived at the table, so too did a rather dishevelled looking witch in her twenties. She explained that her name was Professor Sprout, that she was Head of Hufflepuff House and that she had their timetables to hand out, which she did. Ted was handed his last, so when she left he turned to Archie Macmillan and asked “So what have we got this morning, then?” Archie looked up from his timetable. “Potions with the Ravenclaws, then Transfiguration with the Slytherins.”  
“We’d better grab our potions kits before we go to class, then” commented Euan “Come on, I’ve finished, we can go now!” Amos Diggory, who was still halfway through his kedgeree, grumbled audibly, but Euan simply said “Give me the key to your trunk then, we’ll pick up your kit and book for you and meet you there.” Diggory, his mouth full, nodded gratefully and fished the key out of his pocket.

The boys raced back to their dorm, dug out their potions equipment and books and bolted gleefully down the stairs to the dungeons. Another minor mishap later as Ted tripped over a suit of armour, which complained loudly until they stood it back up, they made it to the dungeon-level classroom just as the bell rang for the start of lessons.

A rather fat, balding blonde wizard with a handlebar moustache greeted them with an avuncular tut as they dropped into the last three remaining seats – Euan passing Amos’ kit along until it reached him. Ted looked around at the Ravenclaw students in their blue and bronze ties. They were a neat lot; though this could have been because most of them were girls. Ted’s mother had always despaired of his inability to see and apathy to fix mess. However, now they were no longer segregated by dorms he realised there were more Hufflepuff girls, too. He supposed this could be no bad thing, as he watched two girls in the front row help each other put their hair up, ready for the practical lesson. One was a rather square-jawed Hufflepuff brunette, the other a pretty Ravenclaw tying off her long blonde plait with a blue ribbon.

“Now then!” called the Professor, jovially. Ted looked away from the girls and resolved to pay attention – he was determined to learn as much as he could, as he was sure magic lessons would prove much more interesting than Muggle Grammar or Secondary school. The teacher continued: “Now we’re all gathered together, I suppose I should start by introducing myself! My name is Professor Slughorn, and I am the Potions Master here as well as head of Slytherin house – although of course none of my house are present in this class. I will be instructing you on the exacting discipline of potion-making, a field which is at once both an art and a science. I don’t mean to discourage you when I stress the complexity of this subject; rather it is my belief than any student, no matter their particular talents, should be able to acquire at least the essential skills and knowledge required to brew your own potions in my class. For those of you with an aptitude, you may later choose to proceed to N.E.W.T level to further your studies into the domain of more advanced concoctions. Today, though, we will be learning to make a simple cure for boils which, if made correctly, can also be diluted for an acne cure. However, the Matron has given me to understand that, should you wish to use your completed potion for acne, you should bring it to her first to be triple-checked for efficacy, as made incorrectly it is more likely to cause boils than to cure them. Should any of you appear in the Hospital wing with giant pustules swelling forth upon your foreheads, Madam O’Hare has made it very clear that she will remove my brain through my nose, an operation I would really rather forego.”

Professor Slughorn chuckled, as the first-years looked nervous. “Don’t worry, this recipe calls for just one ingredient outside of the standard selection included in your kits. Now, to see which of you have made a start on your studies over the summer! I wonder which of you can tell me what Dr. Arsenius Jigger says about horned slugs in _Magical Draughts and Potions_? Hm?”

Several of the Ravenclaws put their hands up, while of the Hufflepuffs only the square-jawed brunette in the front row raised her hand. Ted, Euan and Archie merely looked at each other, wide-eyed and wondering if they should have known to start reading the textbooks before term even started. Professor Slughorn picked the Hufflepuff girl. “Yes, Miss..?”  
“Bones, Sir. Amelia Bones. The book says horned slugs have powerful drying and anti-inflammatory properties, so they’re used in potions to treat blisters and boils” she explained.  
“Very good!” beamed Slughorn. “And can anyone tell me why we’re using them whole today rather than just the secretion?” A few more hands went up, and this time Slughorn called on a Ravenclaw boy.  
“Is it because this is quite a concentrated potion, Sir? So that when it’s diluted you still get the benefit, which you might not if we just used the secretion?”  
“It is indeed, Mr…”  
“Chang, Professor.”

Slughorn was delighted and awarded Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw a point apiece for Bones’ and Chang’s contributions. Ted felt a bit reassured that their first teacher of the year seemed relatively easy to please – he had a feeling Potions was going to be a lot like cooking, something he had never quite got the hang of when trying to help out his Mum at home. As Slughorn magicked the instructions for the potion onto the blackboard, Ted decided he was going to have to study harder than ever to keep pace with the likes of Amelia Bones, who was already making her way over to the store-cupboard to collect her slugs. Ted got up from his desk rather hastily to queue up behind her, but she smiled and shook her head, picking up the entire box and dishing out the requisite four horned slugs to each of the other pupils. Ted nodded his thanks and made his way back to his desk, opening his potions kit for the other ingredients.

As the lesson went on, Ted tried to get to know his classmates while they worked. He learned that the pretty blonde next to Amelia Bones was called Pandora Goldstein, and that the two already knew each other because their dads worked together. He found out that Professor Slughorn, too, was already familiar with several of the pupils thanks to connections with their families. And he was relieved to discover that both Chang (whose Christian name was Tony and who had moved to Glasgow from Hong Kong just a week before receiving his Hogwarts letter) and a girl called Caroline Aarons were also Muggle-born. Ted was glad not to be the only one who was new, but a little abashed that Tony had also had just a few months to prepare and still seemed to have read the textbook.

Realising that in his keenness to make friends he had almost forgotten a crucial ingredient, Ted hurriedly grabbed for the bundle of porcupine quills in his kit. Too hurriedly. Feeling a sharp pain in his palm, he swore and drew his hand back so quickly that he knocked his vial of beetle eyes to the ground in the process, where it smashed. “Language, boy! …Oh” exclaimed Slughorn as he looked up and saw that Ted’s hand was bleeding onto his worktable. Marching over to stand in front of Ted, Slughorn repaired the dropped vial with a wave of his wand, and the beetle eyes flew back into it. “Show me that hand, lad” he asked, more gently, and examined the damage. There were two neat puncture marks at the base of Ted’s palm, where in his haste he had grabbed the porcupine quills by the business end. Slughorn reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny phial of reddish-brown liquid. He dropped a little of it onto Ted’s cuts, and Ted gasped as the burning liquid stung and smoked. When he looked back at his hand, he was amazed to see that the holes had shrunk and scabbed over, as if he’d cut himself a week ago and not a minute. He looked back up, wide-eyed at Professor Slughorn, who grinned.

“Essence of dittany” he explained, apparently taking the opportunity to do a spot of teaching. “Extracted from a rare herb, if the concentrate is applied immediately after a wound has been inflicted it will dramatically accelerate healing. A tincture of dittany can also be drunk to promote natural healing of more serious injuries, after emergency treatment has been given.” He looked back at Ted, good-natured humour apparent in his moustachioed smile. “I suggest you take more care with dangerous ingredients in future, young man. Porcupine quills are among the tamer things you will be handling in my class.” As Ted packed away and examined his miraculously healed hand, Slughorn went round the room and checked the other pupils’ potions. He awarded a chocolate bar to each of Amelia Bones, Tony Chang and Pandora Goldstein, whose shimmering pink boil cures he pronounced perfect. “_Not _that you need it, dear!” he told Pandora warmly, as she accepted the chocolate with a smile.

As Ted, Archie and Euan headed off to their next class, they decided glumly that perhaps Potions wasn’t the subject for them. “Mine turned out yellow, what do you think I did wrong?” pondered Archie anxiously, as they reached the stairs up to the first floor. “Cheer up, mine was bogey-green by the end of the lesson!” said Euan in an attempt to soothe Archie’s worry.  
“Neither of you actually injured yourselves, though, did you? You’re doing fine!” laughed Ted, then, for the second time in fifteen minutes, swore as the step beneath him vanished and swallowed his leg. The other boys grabbed him under each armpit and pulled him out, and they continued up the stairs, arguing about whose potion was the worst the whole way to Transfiguration.

They arrived in the first-floor classroom to be greeted by a young, severe-looking witch with black hair pulled back in a tight bun. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall and explained that she would be teaching them Transfiguration up to fourth year, when classes would be split between herself and Professor Dumbledore, who would then take over for their O.W.L year. Unlike Slughorn, she warned them that Transfiguration was a highly complex and scientific branch of magic and that they should not expect immediate results in her class without a good deal of hard work. This was little comfort to Ted; already feeling somewhat inadequate after his clumsy performance in Potions. Looking around at the Slytherins, Ted’s anxiety was augmented by a jolt of fear as he caught sight of a head of dark ringlets just three seats along from his desk – one of the sisters who had threatened him on the train. Then he relaxed as he realised this was the younger one, the brunette who had tried to apologise as her sister whisked her away on Gideon’s orders. He supposed the bad-tempered Bella must be in a second-year class somewhere. The girl’s preppy brown curls seemed to have deflated slightly since the previous afternoon, and in her sister’s absence she was chatting animatedly with a willowy black girl on her right.

Ted sat back at his desk as Professor McGonagall took the register, from which he learned that the girl and her friend were called Andromeda Black and Belladonna Shacklebolt – he wondered if all Wizard families gave their children such weird names – and watched as the Professor handed each student a match.

“Today”, said McGonagall sternly, her voice a clipped Highland burr “We will be attempting to transfigure matches into needles. Like so:” she declared, and tapped her wand three times over a match “One, two, three…” The match instantly shifted, growing thinner and greyer, until a shiny silver needle rested on the palm of the young witch’s hand. “This is a very simple transformation, involving no living organisms and converting the match to an object of a similar shape and size. As such, no incantation is required – though this is not always the case in transfiguration.”

The first-years looked at their matches apprehensively. Most looked like they very much doubted they were going to be able to achieve this ‘simple transformation’ any time in the near future. Ted, however, felt a flutter of excitement. Was that all that Transfiguration meant? Turning things into other things? Ted was puzzled by McGonagall’s assertions of its complexity, as he had been causing things to transform into what he wanted since he was quite small. There was the time that, playing marbles in the playground, he had won every marble in Billy Owens’ bag when the smooth ground had mysteriously morphed dents and bumps which caused them to roll off course on Billy’s shot. Or another time when, teased by the local bully boys for his fat-cheeked baby face and ‘sissy’ blonde hair, he had inadvertently caused Dave Butcher’s hair to grow out bright ginger for the next month and been unable to explain how he’d done it. Now, though, he knew it was transfiguration. He looked down at his match eagerly.

“Concentrate hard on the image of a needle in your mind” Professor McGonagall was explaining “Calculate its dimensions, how it differs to the match in front of you. Then, with confident, sharp movements, tap your wand over it – one, two, three – and let your magic flow through it and into the match.”

As the other students started taking out rulers and pieces of parchment and measuring their matches, some tapping at them vaguely with their wands to little effect, Ted took out his wand and stared intently at his own match. He thought about everything that made a needle – sharp, cold and shiny, with an eye at one end. Thinner than a match, too. He shut his eyes, pointed his wand at the match and willed it to become a needle, feeling the magic leave him and travel down his wand.

He didn’t even need to tap. When Ted opened his eyes, a bright, pointed sewing needle – perhaps a little thicker than he would have liked, and with a smaller eye, but perfectly serviceable – sat on the desk in front of him. Timidly, he raised his hand.

“Professor, I’ve… I’ve done it.” Professor McGonagall, who had been looking over the shoulders of the pupils on the back row, snapped her head back round to look at Ted. “What do you mean, you’ve done it? You have transfigured your match?” Ted gulped.  
“Yes, Miss, I mean, it’s not exactly as fine a needle as I had in mind, but–”  
“Already?” The Professor, a look of disbelief upon her face, strode over to Ted’s desk to examine his handiwork. She picked up the needle and held it up to the light. There was a funny look in her eyes as she looked back at Ted and asked “Have you ever transfigured anything before, Mr. Tonks?” Ted nodded, slowly. “Yes, Miss, a… a few times.”  
“How long have you had your wand? Did your parents let you experiment with one early, before you received your letter from the school?” Ted shook his head. He could feel the stares of the other students on the back of his neck. “No, Miss. My parents are Muggles, they didn’t know what I was doing was magic until we got the letter.” McGonagall raised her eyebrows.  
“So you transfigured things by mistake as a child? Without a wand?” Ted wasn’t sure if he was in trouble or not. “Y…yes, Miss. And sometimes on purpose. Usually just when I was upset or angry, though” he explained hurriedly, in case this turned out to be against the rules. He wasn’t sure how Professor McGonagall would feel about his acquisition of the marbles, or about Dave Butcher’s hair.

The young Professor still had the funny look on her face. She paused, then placed another match on Ted’s desk, slowly. “Show me.” Ted raised his wand again, but she shook her head. “_Without _the wand.” Ted, blinking, put his wand down on the desk and stared at the new match. He screwed up his eyes in concentration. Nothing happened. “Hmm” said McGonagall, sounding less severe and more thoughtful. “Perhaps if you think of a reason why you would really like this match to change.”

Ted thought. Then he imagined the look on Dave Butcher’s face if he could have pulled out his matchbook, changed the matches to needles and poked one right up Butcher’s stupid nose, pressed up in Ted’s face as it always was when he was trying to be intimidating. There was a flash, and then, smoking slightly, a thin, shiny needle sat right where the second match had been. Ted poked it gingerly with the tip of his wand. It had burned a needle-shaped line into the wood of the desk. He looked up at Professor McGonagall. She was still holding the needle from his first attempt. At last she spoke.

“Ten points to Hufflepuff, Mr. Tonks. Class, look, this is what you are aiming for!” Ted sagged with relief that he wasn’t about to get in trouble either for the burn on the desk, or for his childhood misadventures in accidental transfiguration. Then he realised that the rest of the class were still staring at him, with a mixture of awe and (in the case of most of the Slytherins) dislike. McGonagall addressed him again – “Tonks, perhaps you could explain to the rest of the class the thought process behind how you did that?” Ted swallowed, and looking around at the other pupils, he said “You… you have to look hard at the match and think about how it’s different to a needle. Then you have to imagine very hard what a needle looks like, feels like – metal and pointy and stuff. And… and then you _want _it to change” he finished, clumsily. McGonagall nodded.

“Very good, Mr. Tonks, concentration and raw willpower are indeed two of the most important requirements for transfiguration. However, in future you will no doubt find that a more scientific approach is required – a strong desire for a spell to work is no substitute for hard work and careful study.” She handed him three more matches “I suggest you spend the rest of the lesson practising getting your needle exactly how you want it – paying careful attention to dimensions and using the ‘three taps’ method demonstrated at the start of class. You have demonstrated considerable promise today, Tonks, but now I would like you to refine your technique. The rest of you – get going! See if you can learn from Mr. Tonks’ explanation and perhaps more of you can transfigure your matches by the end of class.”

Ted sank bank into his desk chair, blushing as he saw Euan, Archie and Amos’ looks of admiration and envy. The lesson proceeded without incident – Ted successfully transfigured all of his matches, each needle better and closer to the image in his head than the last – and by the end of the lesson Andromeda Black had managed to get her match to turn silver and sharp at one end. Although her needle was thicker than any of Ted’s attempts and lacking an eye, McGonagall awarded Slytherin house five points. None of the other first-years, not even Amelia Bones, had managed to make any discernible difference to their matches by the time the bell rang; except that Amos had ignited his by mistake while poking it absently with his wand-tip and had to ask for another one. McGonagall asked them all to read and summarise chapter one of _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration _and to practise transfiguring their matches as homework, but added “Black, Tonks, you are excused the practical portion. I will find something more advanced for you to try next lesson.” She paused, looking Ted in the eye and pointing to the burn mark on his desk. “I would suggest, Tonks, that you don’t try any more wandless magic unsupervised by a teacher. As you can see, it can be a little more difficult to control.”

Pleased to have earned himself a few points and the chance to be excused some homework, Ted packed up his things and headed off to lunch. Trotting to catch up with Archie and Euan, he thought over the morning’s classes. He reckoned that Transfiguration was definitely looking a lot more like his strong suit than Potions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is enjoying this fic along with me so far! I hope to have the next chapter up soon xx


	5. The Beetles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda is determined to be top of the class, but when a difficult animal transfiguration has her stumped, she doesn't know who to turn to.

The next few weeks went by in a blur for Andromeda – between rounds of lessons, homework and extra practice of more difficult spells and potions, her days had been full and, for the most part, rewarding. They’d had their first flying lessons and although Andromeda missed her own broom (instead riding a school Shooting Star which made her think ruefully how horrified her mother would be to see her daughter flying such a plebeian model) she was glad to find herself one of the more experienced fliers among her year. Academically, she was stronger than most, especially in Transfiguration where Professor McGonagall had set her first to turning acorns into thimbles, then tulips to goblets, and now had her attempting to transform beetles into buttons. She bit her lip thoughtfully; the beetles were proving more difficult than anything else she’d tried to transfigure so far – being live animals, they were a rather more complex task than wood or flowers. Her last button had scuttled away as fast as its six legs could carry it and not been seen again. She was only slightly cheered by the fact that the rest of the class were still struggling with acorns; Edward Tonks, the Muggle-born boy who had somehow survived the wrath of Bella thus far into term, had progressed to transfiguring mice.

This bothered Andromeda – everything she had been told taught her that Muggle-borns (or Mudbloods as she had known them until a year ago: Bella had written home in a fury at being given detention for using the word in front of a teacher, and her parents had thereafter advised their girls to use the more technical term in mixed company) were mutants, freaks and naturally inferior wizards due to their lack of breeding. Only centuries of magical pedigree could produce offspring of more than mediocre magical talent, her mother had told her; and she, Bella and Cissy were special and privileged to come from such a long line of powerful witches and wizards. How the Tonks boy could be so much better than the rest of the class, _and_, she thought reluctantly _maybe even better than me_, at Transfiguration was therefore a mystery to Andromeda. For some reason the knowledge that he had proven terrible at flying, something Andromeda had witnessed only the day before, didn’t seem to make her feel any better.

Apart from being outperformed in Transfiguration, Andromeda had very few troubles at Hogwarts. If she was honest with herself, the only thing bothering her was a slight sensation of loneliness. Donna was all right, but Andromeda had quickly learned her dorm mate was usually too busy dolling herself up in the morning to talk before class. Andromeda was no stranger to solitude – when Bella had left for Hogwarts the year before, Andromeda had found herself with only her considerably younger sister Narcissa and _much _younger cousin Sirius for company. She had taken to hanging around the scullery in their Chelsea townhouse, begging the laundrymaid who did the tasks the family elf could not to let her help with household spells. But Andromeda had assumed that her feelings of isolation would abate once she got to Hogwarts, to be reunited with her closest sister and to meet new friends.

While Bella had been keen to show Andromeda around the castle for the first week, and more than happy to introduce her to her chums, they were mostly a lot older than Andromeda. They were all Slytherins. Rodolphus Lestrange was a fourth-year, Jody Jacknife was a sixth and Patrick Gibbon a seventh. Stuart Craggy was only in Bellatrix’s year, but all he ever talked about was Quidditch – and usually to Jody, the Slytherin captain, meaning that even if Andromeda wanted to listen to him she doubted he’d have much time for her. Rabastan Lestrange and Corban Yaxley were first-years like Andromeda, but she found them rather trying. Yaxley was full of airs and graces, and patronised Andromeda along with girls in general. Rabastan, though quite handsome for a boy of twelve, had quickly bored her with his almost sycophantic displays of insincere chivalry towards herself and Bella – she suspected he had been put onto it by his parents, who were likely quite keen for their boys to become friendly with the popular and well-to-do Black Sisters. Once he had actually offered her his arm on the way out of the common room, as if she needed his help walking the two steps up to the doorway, and she had told him rather pointedly that perhaps he ought to be in Gryffindor if he was such a gentleman. That had got a laugh from the others in Bella’s group, but it didn’t do much to help Andromeda feel like she fit in.

Curled up in a window seat in the Slytherin common room, Andromeda sighed. She watched idly as bits of weed and one topsy-turvy plimpy drifted by, the light filtering through the water turning her face a ghostly blue-white. She reached into her robes and pulled out a matchbox that Professor McGonagall had given her in their last lesson. Inside it were two black beetles and a bit of moss to make them feel at home. She removed one of the beetles and placed it in front of her on the stone seat. Focusing very hard on the image of a button, she closed her eyes and tapped the beetle with her wand. A loud buzz caused her to open her eyes, which were met with the sight of her button unfolding its wings and taking off across the room. Disgusted with herself, Andromeda wondered if she would ever master animal transfiguration. She could hardly ask Professor McGonagall, who taught all hours of the day and whose office outside of those hours was in Gryffindor tower. She was used to mastering most concepts as soon as they were explained to her – even Astronomy, in which she had little interest, was made easier by the family tradition that meant she often had a cousin for each constellation. She’d considered asking Bella for help, but that would mean admitting she needed it. Professor Slughorn was kind, and seemed to have taken a liking to Andromeda; but she didn’t think he’d be able to offer much Transfiguration advice.

Then it hit her. There was one person who would definitely know how to get around Andromeda’s Transfiguration difficulties, because they’d already done it. What was more, no well-meaning teacher or judgemental older sibling would have to know she’d asked for help.

Squaring her shoulders, Andromeda checked to make sure the box with her remaining beetle was safe in her pocket. She didn’t fancy her chances catching and untransfiguring the one now zooming around the common room if she squandered this one, too. It was Saturday, and most of the school had gone out into the grounds to enjoy the last of the September sunshine – she would look there first. If not she would have to ask around until she found who she was looking for. Rising to go, she looked around the common room, furtively. Somehow, Andromeda didn’t think Bella and her friends would approve of what she was about to do. Thinking back to their previous encounters, she winced.  
She hoped that Hufflepuffs’ reputation for being ‘laid back’ meant they had short memories.

***

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Man, lessons with the Ravenclaws make everyone feel bad!” Fabian was trying to reassure Ted as, hanging out under a beech tree by the lake, they complained about Potions and watched the Giant Squid splash around in the golden autumn sun. The four of them – Ted, Arthur, Fabian and Molly – were taking full advantage of their Saturday morning to do nothing at all, putting all thoughts of homework from their minds. Arthur had snuck an ancient gramophone (the kind with a horn) out of the Gryffindor common room when Ted had complained about missing the record player at home, having brought his records on the assumption there would be one. Ted had doubted it would work – the machine looked like it was meant for the old 78s, and he only had two 45s and a 33 – but Arthur and Fabian had set to work enlarging the turntable until it fit Ted’s LP. Then Fabian had performed a complex switching spell to replace the old needle with one of the more refined ones Ted had brought. At last they had set Ted’s Beatles album on the turntable and Arthur had enchanted the handle to start turning itself, only for the machine to blurt out a comically rushed “_Onetwothreefour!” _and a tinny buzzing noise that Ted hardly recognised as the guitar intro to _I Saw Her Standing There. _Eventually they had adjusted the speed to satisfy even Ted’s knowledge of how fast the record _should _be going; and now they were lying on the grass listening to the album while Arthur sat, enchanted by the inventiveness of Muggle music and Molly protested that she’d never be able to play her 78s now they had “messed up” the gramophone.  
“You only listen to Celestina anyway, she’s on the wireless all the time, you don’t _need _records!” Fabe had teased, and eventually Molly had given in and retreated to sit back against the tree trunk and sulkily pull out her latest project – a mysterious creation in canary yellow wool, the intended purpose of which she refused to tell. Ted had never known it was possible to knit _at _someone before, but judging by the firm set of her dainty jaw as she worked, looking anywhere but at Arthur and Fabian, Molly Prewett was a champion. Ted couldn’t bring himself to feel very guilty, though, while the familiar strains of _Please Please Me _echoed through the crisp September air – and besides, Fabian and Gideon had assured him before that these moods were just how Molly held her own among two older brothers, and that she was always right as rain in an hour or so.

Sure enough, Molly had perked up enough by the end of the album to get up and join in as the boys, roaring with laughter, tried out Ted’s Muggle dance moves – many of which hadn’t filtered through to the wizarding dance scene yet. Soon she was twisting with the best of them, and Ted suspected she probably enjoyed the Muggle music more than she let on. His suspicions were confirmed when (while Fabe and Arthur hadn’t come across anything newer than the Madison) she surprised them all with a really very convincing Mashed-Potato she said she had learnt from a Muggle-born girl in her year. Just as the last song ended and they all collapsed in a giggling heap, Ted noticed a slim figure walking towards them. He sat up, wondering guiltily if this was Professor McGonagall come to retrieve the Gryffindors’ gramophone. Then he realised whoever it was was wearing school robes and he relaxed a little. They had their cloak on and the hood up, which was odd – this might be the last nice day before a Scottish winter, why waste it?

The cloaked student had stopped a few yards away, and Ted wondered if they hadn’t expected him and his friends to be there. Then, with a hesitant look over one shoulder, the figure pulled back its hood.

It was Andromeda Black, the preppy Slytherin from his Transfiguration class. The one with the rude sister. She looked pretty wiped out. Her normally neat, spiffy brown curls had been tied into a knot at the back of her head, and her face looked even paler than usual. She took a deep breath, but didn’t say anything. Ted thought she’d probably noticed what he had – that the Prewetts and Arthur had recognised her from the train, and were now sitting up and watching her warily. He remembered what Arthur had said about Slytherins – they and Gryffindor house didn’t seem to get on.

“Wotcher, Black. Can we help you?” Ted said at last, deciding it was best to break the uncomfortable silence. The girl shifted her weight, nervously. Then she took another deep breath in, and said “Tonks, I.. I wanted to apologise. For what my sister said on… on the train. I know it’s been three weeks, but I couldn’t say anything at the time, not with her there. And we share classes now, it seems silly not to get along, even if…” she trailed off, rather pink. Ted was bemused. He knew they shared the top spot in McGonagall’s class – Black was the only other one who’d started on animal transfiguration – but he didn’t think they’d actually spoken to each other before, and it did seem weird that she was apologising now for something that had happened at the start of term, and that hadn’t been her fault. He shrugged and said “Don’t worry about it – like you said, it seemed like your sister was the one with a problem. Where is she now, anyway?”

Black looked over her shoulder again, nervously. “She doesn’t know I’m here. I don’t think she’d like it if she knew I’d… look, my sister and I weren’t raised to talk to Muggle-borns, but–” she hesitated when Arthur gave a derisive snort, glaring at her from behind Ted. She glanced at him, then cleared her throat.

“What Bella said to you on the train was wrong. What she _did _was wrong – she should never have threatened you like that and I’m really, really sorry. She’s probably never going to say that to you herself, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and honestly I can’t think of one piece of evidence for any of the stuff our parents say about people from Muggle families anymore”. Ted glanced sideways at Arthur; whose frown had been erased as he raised both his eyebrows in disbelief. Meanwhile, the pretty Slytherin girl looked like she might be close to tears.  
“It’s all right, Black, please don’t cry, I can hardly judge you on what your family’s like or I wouldn’t be much better, would I?” said Ted hurriedly, in what he hoped was a comforting tone. “Why don’t you sit down?” he offered, choosing to ignore the reluctant looks on his friends’ faces for the time being.

Shakily, the girl dusted off a patch of ground at what looked like a safe distance from Arthur, who had gone back to regarding her with deep suspicion. Ted decided to risk another question. Girls were still rather alien creatures, and he didn’t want a tantrum on his hands. “Did you just come over here to apologise for your sister, or is there something else you’d like to talk about?” Black, who had been staring at the ground by her feet, glanced up at him and then away. He saw her bite her lip nervously.  
“Well…”  
“HA!” Both Ted and Black turned to stare at Arthur, who apparently couldn’t keep silent any longer. With uncharacteristic contempt, he continued “Well, she’s a Slytherin, isn’t she? Of course there’s an ulterior motive.”  
“Arthur, wasn’t your mum a Slytherin?” piped up Molly, who was looking torn, glancing from Arthur to Black and back again. “Come to that, aren’t you two related?” Arthur coloured, then muttered  
“Well, no, Mum got disowned by the Blacks when she married my Dad, didn’t she?”

Black, who had kept silent up to this point, looked up sharply and asked “Um, sorry, but… what’s your mother’s name?” Arthur looked askance at her, then replied warily  
“Cedrella. Cedrella Black as was.” The girl looked like she wanted to say something, then thought better of it.

Ted sighed. “Just because she might have something specific to talk to me about doesn’t mean she didn’t mean what she said, Arthur”. He looked back at Black, who was still looking a bit wan. “Well, was there anything in particular you had to say?” The girl turned pink again, coughed and then, suddenly, stood up. She looked angry, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to shout at him or Arthur. Then she pulled a small box from inside her cloak, stamped her foot and said “It’s these damn beetles McGonagall’s had us working on! I’ve tried and tried and every time I think I’ve got somewhere the stupid button turns out to have antennae or wing-cases or something, it’s like the cursed things are refusing to be an inanimate object!” she paused for breath, then ploughed on “And I told McGonagall I’d have it mastered by Monday, but I’m not getting anywhere and I _know _you’ve already done it, she’s started you on _mice_, for Merlin’s sake, but I just can’t get the hang of animal transfiguration and I’ve only got one beetle left!” She fell silent, breathing heavily and glaring at the matchbox in her hand.

Ted was stunned. “You… you came all the way here… and got all worked up and apologised and everything, just to ask for help with our Transfiguration homework?” He couldn’t believe she had got in such a state over something so simple. “Is that all?” The girl sat back down again, slowly.  
“Well, no, I apologised because I knew I ought to anyway, but yes, I suppose that’s what I…” she looked positively crimson by now “…what I need your help with.”

Ted looked thoughtfully at the matchbox. “So, your buttons still have wings and stuff, right?” he confirmed, and she nodded. “OK, so what are you thinking about when you picture a button in your head?” The girl scowled.  
“You know, a flat black enamel button with two holes in the middle, with a circle around the edge, pretty typical.” Ted thought he might have found the problem.  
“And what does that button feel like in your hand? What sound does it make when you drop it on the desk, or on the ground? Do buttons generally move, or do they stay still?” Black was giving him a weird look. He smiled “I think you might be being too visual when you think about the end result. You need to imagine the button that you want to end up with from every possible sense. Otherwise it’ll probably just _look _like a button, but still have a lot of the beetle’s features. Try now.”

Slowly, Black opened up the matchbox and took out her remaining beetle. She placed it on the ground and closed her eyes – Ted could see she was trying to factor in everything he’d said. Then she tapped the beetle with her wand one, two, three times, and looked cautiously down at it.

A black button lay on the ground in front of her. She prodded it cautiously, and when it didn’t move she picked it up and examined it. A look of wonder and relief spread across her pale face, and she reached out and handed the button to Ted for inspection. He grinned. “Right on!” he told her, giving a thumbs-up “See, you just needed to broaden your mind and think about it from a different angle.”  
The girl blushed again, and Ted could tell she, too, was thinking about the apology she’d given earlier. She really wasn’t so bad, Ted thought, amused. She seemed a sweet chick really. Just a bit sheltered by her pure-blood-fanatic family, by the sound of it. Even Arthur seemed to have relaxed somewhat, or at least he was holding his tongue, and Molly and Fabe looked positively pleased for the girl to have succeeded at her latest attempt at the spell.

“Thank you, Tonks, I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d had to go in on Monday and tell McGonagall I couldn’t do it” said Black, taking back the button and tucking it carefully back in the matchbox for safe-keeping. Ted chuckled.  
“You’re welcome, just don’t ask me about bloody mice, I haven’t worked out how to get rid of the vertebrae yet. You know, if we’re gonna be Transfiguration pals you may as well call me Ted. Everyone else does.” The girl gave him a shy smile, and Ted noticed that despite her thin face she had dimples when she smiled. “Andromeda, then” she offered. “Sorry it’s a bit of a mouthful.” Ted laughed, and Andromeda stood up again. “Well, see you in Transfiguration!” she said brightly, before turning and walking away rather quickly.

Ted turned back to Arthur. “Girls are weird” he announced, and then caught Molly’s expression from her seat at the base of the tree. “Sorry, Molly!” he said quickly, and she rolled her eyes. Arthur shrugged.  
“Slytherins are weird” he countered, “But you know, she really did seem sort of all right. Swallowed her pride well about you being Muggle-born. Even though you’re better than her.” Ted felt that this wasn’t quite fair.  
“I’m not, really, I’ve just been transfiguring things longer. It was the main thing I did as a kid, before I knew it was magic” a sudden thought occurred to him, and he grinned ruefully “You should have seen the flying lesson we had the other day, I was the worst! Fell off three times. She was OK, though, I suppose she’s flown before” he mused. Then he noticed Molly was looking thoughtful. “What?” he asked. She yawned and stretched, and then said “I was thinking it might be good to look out for her. If her sister finds out she gave the time of day to us lot I doubt she’ll have a lot of friends in Slytherin. And anyway” she shrugged, “I want to help her do something about that hair. I’ve got a feeling Mummy must have always done it at home, and now she doesn’t know how to style it properly. It’s good hair she and her sister have got, seems a shame to twist it up in a bun all the time.”

Ted shook his head. Whatever Molly said to the contrary, girls were really weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a while now! If anyone spots any anachronisms please let me know, research on records and record players courtesy of my parents. Hope you are all enjoying so far! xx


	6. Around The Subject

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one, but more to follow soon. It's Halloween, and Andromeda is in two minds about the feast.

And so it was that, on the morning of the 31st of October, the Transfiguration classroom buzzing with excitement for the Halloween feast and dance, Andromeda Black found herself at the desk between Belladonna Shacklebolt (practically glowing with excitement about her outfit plans for the evening) and Ted Tonks (muttering under his breath as he tried to transfigure a glass of water into single-malt whiskey). Andromeda was attempting to do the same, though neither of them was having much luck. Their classmates, meanwhile, were all still trying to turn snails’ shells orange, a spell that Andromeda and Ted had mastered weeks ago.

Andromeda had discovered to her relief that Charms, which the Slytherin first-years also shared with Hufflepuff, was a subject which Ted found considerably more difficult, and with which she was able to help him in return for his assistance in Transfiguration. She was reflecting on the previous day’s work, teaching Ted the Reparo charm to help him fix all the things he dropped or knocked over – the boy had to be the clumsiest person she had ever met, she thought, laughing aloud - when Professor McGonagall swooped down on the pair of them.

“And what, Miss Black, is so entertaining?” she inquired sternly, glancing at the untransfigured glasses of water and then back at her students. Andromeda fiddled with her hair – she had resorted to keeping it in rather crooked plaits in order to keep it out of her eyes, as doing her own rag-curls had proven harder than she’d imagined – and met the young Professor’s steely gaze. “Oh, I was just, um… looking forward to the feast later!” she managed, and though McGonagall looked unconvinced, she narrowed her eyes only slightly before turning to ask Donna why her snail remained resolutely grey-brown. In truth, Andromeda had not really been looking forward to the feast at all, she would no doubt be stuck with Bella’s haughty group of friends all night, and she had no idea what she was going to wear. She certainly couldn’t go with her hair like this, although she had no idea what else she was supposed to do with it. Normally she would ask Donna about these things, but she kept her own hair in rows of thin braids tight to her scalp and wore a tall wig over it most of the time.

“Oh, this is pointless, how are any of us supposed to focus when the feast is tonight? _Fermentum ablegamo. _See? Still nothing!” whispered Ted to her left, glowering at the glass of what was clearly still water on his desk. Andromeda noticed that his accent got stronger when he was frustrated – he’d pronounced ‘nothing’ as ‘nuffin’, which was probably a bad sign. Ted normally picked up this kind of spell on the first couple of tries, but nobody in the room was really concentrating that morning. They’d been given the afternoon off to prepare for the evening’s festivities, and nobody could wait for the bell to ring so they could escape double Transfiguration and skip off to lunch. Ted turned to Andromeda, who was likewise failing to transfigure her water. “You’re going to the feast later, right?” he asked, apparently giving up on his work for the time being. Andromeda bit her lip reflexively. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to go to the feast or the dance that followed, and in any case it wasn’t like she had any friends to go with. She wasn’t sure if Ted counted, and anyway, they’d agreed not to be seen interacting too much outside of class in case Bella saw and objected. “Oh.. I don’t know. I expect I’ll go to the feast, I’ve got to have dinner anyway – but I’m not sure about the dance, my hair’s a mess and…” she inclined her head towards the back of the room, where Rabastan Lestrange was looking rather pleased with himself after finally changing the colour of his snail – “That one’ll probably pounce on me as soon as the dancing starts, and he’s a complete _pain_, he just can’t take a hint to back off!” Ted shrugged.  
“That Ken doll? I’d say hex him, but I doubt Slughorn’d like it, the Lestranges seem pretty popular with him.” This was true enough, Professor Slughorn was notorious for picking favourites, and while Andromeda was currently in his good books so were both Lestrange brothers. “And I wouldn’t worry about your hair, I mean, look at mine!” he indicated his own scruffy, dark blonde mop-top. He grinned. “I’d make a potion for it, but I’d probably blow something up, eh?” That got a laugh from Andromeda.  
“You should try asking Donna, she’s absolutely killer at Potions, aren’t you, Don?” Donna made a noncommittal noise, then went back to staring at her snail. Andromeda supposed she wasn’t really interested in helping someone who she probably just saw as a Muggle-born with not much in the way of money or connections. Ted had explained that his parents were greengrocers, a kind of Muggle shopkeeper who sold fruit and vegetables. Most of Slytherin didn’t want much to do with him after that. Andromeda knew Donna understood they were only talking because they had the same advanced Transfiguration work, so her reaction didn’t worry her; but she supposed it was a bit pointless encouraging her house-mates to get to know Ted, not to mention a bit dicey if Bella was around. Ted shrugged as Andromeda gave him an apologetic look. “You should come along, it’s gonna be a blast. If you’re that worried about your hair and stuff, talk to Molly, I know she’s pretty hip at that sort of thing.” Andromeda racked her brains.  
“Molly?”  
“Molly Prewett, you know, my friend in Gryffindor? Sparky little thing, freckles, load of red hair as high as your hat? Plays beater for Gryffindor” he said helpfully. Andromeda remembered – the only female beater on any of the house teams, she’d nearly knocked Stuart Craggy off his broom in the first Quidditch match of the year just as he was about to catch the Snitch. Gryffindor had won, and Stuart, Rodolphus and Jody had been livid for days afterwards. Then she remembered something else.

“Ted, didn’t her brother dob my sister in with Slughorn at the start of the year? I’m not saying she didn’t have it coming!” she assured him hurriedly, as Ted raised an eyebrow. “But I doubt she’s going to want to help me with my ‘do after all that! She didn’t exactly seem pleased to see me when I came to apologise either” Andromeda muttered, blushing at the memory.  
“Nah, she was just surprised. We all were!” Ted pointed out.  
“Hmm.” Now it was Andromeda’s turn to try and sound noncommittal.  
“I’m sure she’d be happy to get ready with you after lunch. I can introduce you properly if you like?” Ted Tonks was many things, and persistent was somewhere near the top of the list. “I mean, yeah, she’s got a bit of a temper on her, but if she hasn’t flipped out on you yet then she’s not pissed off. When she’s pissed off you’ll know about it. Seriously.”

Perhaps Ted realised this wasn’t really making Andromeda feel any better, because he changed tactics. “Come on, you’ve got to come to the dance, it’ll be fun! And if you get ready with Molly you can go along together, and you’ll have someone to talk to apart from Scuzzy Lesleaze over there.” He jerked a thumb over at Rabastan with a look of distaste, and Andromeda had to laugh. She’d laughed more in the last month than she thought she ever had before coming to Hogwarts – _maybe Mama and Papa don’t like Muggle-borns because they know how to have fun better than we do_, she thought wryly. Her parents’ idea of fun was hosting a soirée where their daughters sat in their itchy, old-fashioned best robes for hours and were paraded proudly to the Ministry and business bigwigs in the Blacks’ social circle. She grimaced at the thought that those were the only dress robes she had brought, so she supposed she’d be wearing them to the dance tonight. If she went.

“O.K, I’ll ask if she wants to get ready together if you’ll introduce me” she sighed, deciding she might as well ask, and Ted could at least hear Molly’s ‘no’ for himself. But he was grinning.  
“I’ll drink to that. Fermentum ablegamo!” The water in Ted’s glass shimmered and then, smoking slightly, turned a pale amber colour. “_Ha!_” he cried triumphantly and took a victory sip. The effect was slightly marred when he had to spit it out, coughing partly due to the unexpected strength of his creation, but mostly because he’d just burned his tongue on the scalding whiskey, heated to boiling point by the force of the spell. As McGonagall bustled over to chastise him (“_What _did I say about _not drinking the end product_, Mr. Tonks?”) Just then the bell rang and, still laughing, Andromeda picked up her bag and dragged Ted and Donna out the door, following the swarm of students eager to make the most of their afternoon of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter to be up tomorrow! I originally intended to do both as one but I thought this chapter had come to its natural conclusion here. Hope you're all enjoying so far! xx


	7. Cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the next installment in the story of the Halloween Dance of '63!

Andromeda was just finishing lunch, listening to Bella and Stuart complaining about their Defence Against the Dark Arts class (“All the counter-jinxes they teach us are pathetic, how are we supposed to fight anyone if they won’t show us the _real _magic we’re up against?”), when there was a loud crash from the Hufflepuff table. Someone (and Andromeda thought she had a shrewd idea who) had knocked a platter of blancmange to the floor, creating an almighty clatter and a lot of mess. The whole room turned to stare as, yes, Ted Tonks grubbed around on the floor with a cloth, apologising loudly while, interestingly, Gryffindor Molly Prewett tutted from the seat next to him. While the rest of the hall turned back to their plates with a shrug and Bella scoffed about Mudbloods who couldn’t even clean up after themselves by magic (for some reason Andromeda felt a tight knot twist in her stomach – the word had never bothered her before), Andromeda continued to stare towards the Hufflepuff table. Under it, Ted was doing something rather strange. He looked up, met Andromeda’s eyes and pointed at the door, holding his other hand palm-out, fingers splayed. When she looked puzzled, he jerked his head towards the door, closed his fist and flashed five fingers again.

Then she understood. Checking the watch which hung on a thin silver chain around her neck – a present from her aunt Walburga for being sorted into Slytherin – she nodded and went back to finishing her trifle. Then she helped herself to more, although she was no longer hungry. The rest of the school would rise from their luncheon any minute now and return to their dorms to get ready for the feast. Andromeda would wait five minutes, pretending to eat a second helping of pudding, then meet Ted and, she guessed, Molly outside when the coast was clear.

Sure enough, Rodolphus pushed his plate away and Bella followed suit. Donna hadn’t even turned up to lunch – Andromeda guessed she had wanted a head start on beautifying herself for the dance. Not that Donna was really in need of further adornment, Andromeda thought with a sigh. Andromeda’s own looks were well enough, she supposed, but one disadvantage of going everywhere with Donna was that nobody else could even hold a candle to her glowing mahogany complexion, high cheekbones (though all three Black Sisters could at least hold their own there) and liquid black eyes. Except possibly Pandora Goldstein, but she was in Ravenclaw and thus rarely had to endure the comparison. Bidding her sister and the other Slytherins goodbye, Andromeda thought it strange that the two girls widely acknowledged to be the most beautiful in her year could look so different from one another. She supposed beauty could come in many forms; though like many things she had come to suppose in the last two months, this contradicted much of what her mother had taught her on the subject. Shaking her head, she watched as the last few people, including Ted and Molly, made their way out of the main doors. Now she was the last student left in the hall, and she checked her watch impatiently. Two minutes left of Ted’s prescribed five-minute wait. She felt pretty foolish sitting here on her own as the platters of food disappeared from the tables, but she had to concede that he was probably right. The fewer people who remained in the Entrance Hall when she met Ted and Molly, the smaller the risk that Bella or someone else she knew might see and get the wrong idea. Andromeda wasn’t quite sure what the wrong idea was, but she knew that it wasn’t something she wanted Bella to write home about to Mama and Papa.

At last she got up, hoisted her satchel onto her shoulder and strode away, her still-full pudding bowl vanishing in her wake. Upon slipping through the double doors, she immediately spied Ted and Molly, lurking under a staircase in an effort to seem less conspicuous. The way they were grinning and waving at her detracted from this slightly, and she made her way over swiftly before any of the few Ravenclaw seventh-years still in the Entrance Hall could glance away from complaining about missing Charms and see her. She blushed as she reached them, still confused that Molly Prewett looked so pleased to see her.

“Wotcher, ‘Dromeda!” said Ted, cheerfully, and Andromeda looked up at him sharply.  
“Since when do you call me ‘Dromeda?” she asked, incredulity overtaking her embarrassment. “No-one calls me that, my family call me Romy, but…” The ridiculous boy was still grinning at her.  
“Well, like you said, it’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it – Andromeda? Although Molly says one of the Ravenclaws in her year is called _Xenophilius_, so…” he shrugged. Andromeda narrowed her eyes.  
“Isn’t a dromedary a kind of camel?” she asked suspiciously. Ted shrugged, _again_. He was _always _shrugging, like nothing really bothered him enough to hold an opinion.  
“Search me” he said amiably “I can call you Camel if you like, but–”  
“All right, all right, you’ve made your point” Andromeda rolled her eyes, looking for a moment very much like her older sister. “Hullo, Prewett, listen, I know I must be the last person you want to spend the afternoon before the dance with, but–” Molly cut her off.

“Nonsense, dear, and call me Molly! Ted here says you’d like some help doing your hair? I’d love to help out, we can try ratting it up like mine if you like!” Andromeda stared at the redhead’s freckled, earnest face, searching for any trace of reluctance or irony in the other girl’s warm brown eyes. Finding none, she blushed again and bit her lip (she really had to stop doing that, they were getting horribly chapped and sore), wondering what she’d done for this girl who owed her nothing to be so nice to her.  
“Could we? Really could we?” Andromeda whispered. Molly Prewett’s hair was the height of fashion, which was to say about three inches higher than the top of her head. It was the subject of much envy by many girls in the school, Andromeda knew, and to her it looked effortlessly, scandalously, Muggle-ishly… _cool. _Andromeda didn’t know what to say, but Molly seemed to understand, because she smiled and said gently “Why don’t you pop back to your dorm and grab your dress robes, and then meet me outside Gryffindor tower in about ten minutes? Oh, and bring your hairbrush and makeup!” Andromeda nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Ted accompanied her down the first flight of stairs, before waving her a cheery farewell and disappearing behind a heap of wooden barrels – she supposed to his common room. She continued down until she got to the dungeons, then trotted on to the stretch of wall that served as the entrance to the Slytherin common room. “Primus inter pares” she muttered, and the wall melted away to allow her passage into the gloomy underground room. A few boys were dotted around – Andromeda supposed they didn’t feel the need for five hours to prepare for a party. She glanced around furtively for the Lestrange brothers, but they were nowhere to be seen, evidently in their dorms somewhere. _Probably heating their curling irons,_ she thought disdainfully, as she made for the door that lead to her own dorm. She spotted Yaxley playing chess by the fire with another first-year boy whose name she didn’t know, and he smiled and waved as she passed them. She gave them a cursory nod before opening the door and heading down to the girls’ dorms.

When she reached her dorm, the contents of Donna’s trunk and chest-of-drawers were strewn everywhere and Donna herself was muttering incantations into a mirror as she held her wand to her eyelashes – Andromeda supposed she was trying to curl them. Donna had her wig off and Andromeda thought she looked rather odd without it – she had got used to the idea of Donna’s head forming a high, oval dome on top and now the sight of her bare head, with its rows of short black braids hugging what was admittedly a perfectly-shaped skull made her look rather vulnerable. She skirted the detritus of cosmetics and discarded robes and made her way to her own bed. She wrinkled her nose as she extracted her best dress robes from the trunk – she was going to look horribly unfashionable and childish compared to everyone else, although at least Bella would be wearing the same pinafore-style robes. Andromeda wasn’t sure how she felt about this – their parents always dressed them the same at parties, but she wasn’t sure it was really, well, _hip _to wear the same clothes as your sister, particularly when they looked so alike already. From her bedside table she grabbed her hairbrush and the rather dusty bottle of Sleekeazy’s Patented Setting Potion that her mother always used to curl her daughters’ hair – except Narcissa’s which refused to do anything but lie flat whatever anyone did with it. Looking at the hairbrush, she noticed it was full of matted brown hair, which she extracted and threw away with distaste. She didn’t want Molly to see how bad she’d let her brush get without cleaning it. Finally, she opened a drawer and looked regretfully at her pitiful ‘makeup’ collection – a small pot of greasy rouge advertised as containing cochineal and wandering pimpernel, which she used as lip balm and a vial of diluted bubotuber extract which her mother had given her to help with pimples. She scooped them both up and, with a glance back at Donna, who was now trying to decide between four beautiful sets of robes, and Diana Greengrass, who was sullenly trying to look round Donna to use the mirror, Andromeda announced “I’m going to get ready with a friend” and disappeared out of the door. She didn’t look back – she didn’t want to see their looks of disbelief at the suggestion of her having any other friends.

The good thing about Gryffindor tower was, Andromeda reflected as she panted up the stairs, it wasn’t hard to find. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Astronomy towers were the three highest points of the castle, and you’d have to be a fool to miss them. When she reached what she thought must be the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, she paused, not sure what to do next. A large oval portrait of a rather fat lady in a pink dress thirty years out of date hung on the grey stone wall, regarding her with a look of suspicion. “I think you might be lost, missy!” the Fat Lady suggested helpfully, glancing curiously at Andromeda’s green and silver tie and the green snake badge on her robes. “I don’t know, is this the entrance to Gryffindor common room?” she asked waspishly. She noticed Peeves, the school poltergeist, bobbing along the ceiling at the other end of the corridor. She wished Molly would turn up. The last thing she needed was Peeves broadcasting to the school that she’d been seen up in Gryffindor tower. “Maybe”, the Fat Lady said evasively, and then grabbed onto her chair as her portrait swung to one side to reveal a round hole that opened onto a brightly lit room and, to Andromeda’s relief, the brightly smiling face of Molly Prewett.

“Ah, you found it O.K, then? Good, come on in!” Molly beckoned, and Andromeda climbed through the hole inelegantly, to be faced with the sight of a roaring fire, a number of overstuffed armchairs and several distrustful-looking Gryffindors, all looking from her tie to her face and back. Seeing Andromeda trying to make herself look smaller, Molly turned and met their eyes. There was a moment of silence, and then the redhead planted her hands on her hips and announced “It’s cool, she’s with me”. One of the older boys, a broad-shouldered, brown-haired seventh-year who Andromeda thought might be Gryffindor’s other beater raised one bushy eyebrow, and Molly said coolly “Chill out, Alastor, she’s not like her sister”. Andromeda wondered what beef this boy had with Bella, but she gave a hesitant smile before following Molly through a door and up a staircase very like the one down to her own dorm. Bellatrix rubbed a lot of people up the wrong way, most just didn’t know her like her sisters did.

Molly’s dorm was cosily upholstered in red and gold, and unlike the Slytherin dorms it had windows that looked out over the grounds. Several other chattering girls were already preoccupied with the business of dolling themselves up for the evening, and Andromeda was relieved that they barely even looked at her as Molly led her inside. Molly’s bed had a daring, sleeveless dress in a green and orange paisley laid out on it, and Andromeda glanced disgustedly at her own old-fashioned black dress robes with their frilly white collar.

Molly was looking pensively at Andromeda, lips slightly pursed and one pale eyebrow raised. “All right then, take those plaits out and pass me your hairbrush” she said. Andromeda dumped her bundle of party preparations on the bed next to Molly’s dress robes and handed Molly the brush. The older girl stared at it. “…Where’s the hair?” she said at last. Andromeda was perplexed.  
“I threw it away” she offered, wondering what Molly was expecting her to say. The freckled third-year adopted a pained expression.  
“You threw it away?” she asked, clearly scandalised. Andromeda was confused.  
“Well, yes, it was clogging up the brush, pretty grotty really, why?” Molly sighed.  
“I was going to make you a hair rat.”  
“A what?” Andromeda thought she might have misheard. She had heard of ‘ratting’ hair, but wearing an actual rat on your head seemed a bit much.  
“A rat. Here, I’ll show you.” And the older girl reached up behind her own head and started pulling out hairpins. Then she stuck one hand under the fluffy ginger dome of her hair and suddenly the size of her ‘do deflated by half.

She pulled out something that looked like the hairball sicked up by a tiger. It was cylindrical, fuzzy and bright orange. It took Andromeda a moment to realise that the thing Molly was holding must be made of her own hair.

“Is _that _what you use to get your hair so big?” she asked, torn between awe and mild disgust. Molly grinned.  
“It’s not pretty but it’s the secret to a perfect ‘do” she explained. “It’s not all hair, there’s a brush roller inside to stick the pins in. I was going to do one for you, but you’re supposed to save up the shed hair from your brush, so…” she reached over and rummaged in the top drawer of her bedside table. From it she retrieved an even bigger ‘rat’. “I normally use this one for parties, anyway. Here, why don’t you use the everyday one?” she passed Andromeda the smaller rat that had been in her hair. It was lighter than she expected, she supposed because it was hollow. Catching Andromeda’s expression, Molly laughed.

“Don’t worry, I keep them clean, but if it makes you feel better…” she pointed her wand at the ball of fuzz in Andromeda’s hand “Tergeo.” The rat emitted a froth of sweetly-scented pale pink bubbles, and grew hot, then cold to the touch. Andromeda couldn’t help herself.  
“That’s such a cool charm! Does it work for everything? Will you teach me?” Molly chuckled and demonstrated the wand movement. Andromeda tried it on the bigger rat, and was pleased to see it clean itself just as Molly’s spell had done.  
“You’re really good!” said Molly, “It took me a bunch of tries to get that one right!” She looked thoughtfully at the rat Andromeda was holding. “Hmm. It’s the wrong colour. Colovaria!” the matted hair turned black. “Bah” said Molly, and tried again. Blonde. “I just can’t get it to do subtle colours” she muttered. Happily, this was a spell Andromeda already knew.  
“Well, if either of my sisters ever decides to try Muggle hairstyles we’ll know who to call. Colovaria!” she declared. The rat turned the exact same shade of brown as Andromeda’s hair. Molly, to her credit, looked only slightly put-out at being outdone by a first-year.  
“So, are you top of the year at everything, or just Charms and Transfiguration?” she joked.  
“Oh, I’m not top at Transfiguration, Ted is” Andromeda explained.  
“Thanks, that makes me feel _so _much better” said Molly, dryly.

They spent the next half an hour putting Andromeda’s hair up. Molly confounded Andromeda by brushing her roots backwards. “Won’t it get tangled?” she asked. Molly giggled. “Yes, but it’ll make it look _so _lovely first! As my Mum always says–”  
“Beauty is suffering?” Andromeda suggested. She saw Molly grin in the mirror.  
“Yes indeed. Turns out we blood traitors aren’t raised so differently, hm?”

Molly showed Andromeda how to pin the rat in place herself so she could do it every day, if she wanted. “You’ve got such lovely loose curls, it’s a shame to tie them all back or twist them into those artificial ringlets your sister does” she explained, then pulled out a Sleekeazy product Andromeda had never seen before. It was a gold cylinder with a spray nozzle, and when Molly directed it at the back of Andromeda’s newly backcombed head it emitted a fine mist which made Andromeda cough and her eyes water. “Sorry about that, but it’ll help it stay in place” explained Molly. “Now, what are you going to wear?”

When Andromeda showed her the hated best robes, Molly was horrified. “You can’t go in that!” she declared, and then “Hold on…”. The redhead dug through her trunk until, with a look of triumph, she pulled out a turquoise dress that was brighter than anything Andromeda had ever owned. It was loose raw silk, less shiny than satin, flowy and slightly translucent. Andromeda wondered if it was decent, then noted with relief the darker, opaque satin slip underneath.

“Could… could I?” she breathed, hardly daring to believe that Molly was willing to lend her this, and not sure if she had the nerve to pull it off. Molly smiled and nodded.  
“Go on, try it on!”

Although Andromeda was two years younger, she and Molly were of a height, although Molly was a little plumper. With a maternal cluck, Molly adjusted the fit of the dress on Andromeda, stitching the seams tighter with a charm that left a row of neat backstitch in the wake of her wand-tip. Andromeda was fascinated, and vowed to get Molly to teach her another time. Then she stepped in front of the mirror.

Speechless, Andromeda felt a single tear roll down her pale cheek. She saw Molly step behind her, and she, too, looked awed.  
“Oh, Andromeda, that looks fab on you!” the redhead exclaimed. Andromeda was still struggling for words. From the top of her ratted-up hair to the hem of the wonderful dress, she hardly recognised herself. No more the pinafore-clad child sitting bored at her parents’ dinner parties.  
“I’m… I’m _cool_!” she managed in disbelief. Molly laughed.  
“Far out, what a decent hairdo and a bit of confidence can do for a girl, isn’t it? You’re beautiful, Man, I wish I looked half as good in that dress as you do!”

Andromeda protested that Molly always looked cool, even in school robes, which made the older girl chuckle. As Molly pulled on the green and orange slip dress that she’d laid out for herself and set about putting her hair back up with the even bigger rat for the special occasion, Andromeda tried to do her best with her face. She applied a little more rouge than she normally would just to protect her chapped lips, and a little went on her cheeks as well. A little dab of bubotuber potion went here and there to clear up the few spots that had been threatening to emerge from deep under her skin. When she turned back to Molly, she realised that she, too, had moved onto makeup. Molly wore bright green eyeshadow; her pale copper eyebrows had been pencilled over and her eyelashes were black and three times their normal length.

“False lashes” she explained. “Sorry I haven’t got a pair for you, but if you can find an older student they might be able to do a lash extension charm for you. Human transfiguration is hard.” She squinted at Andromeda. “Actually, you really don’t need it. Does your whole family have eyelashes like that?” Andromeda blushed.  
“Bellatrix does, but you haven’t met my youngest sister, Narcissa. Blonde as a puffskein, and her eyelashes are basically white” Molly looked somewhat relieved.  
“Good, not just me, then. The hair has its drawbacks” she said, smiling wryly.

Ten minutes later, it was almost time to go down to dinner. Molly had convinced Andromeda to borrow a pair of patent white boots, saying “You can’t wear school shoes with a dress like that!” Andromeda had to concede that she had a point, and they only had to shrink the boots one size. Molly added a dab of her own green eyeshadow to each of Andromeda’s eyes (“There! Now we match!”) and gave them both a last spritz of the spray-potion to make sure their hair stood up to the dancing. Finally, Andromeda felt prepared to face the other students and enjoy the dance. It was impossible to feel uncool when she was arm-in-arm with Molly, wearing the beautiful turquoise dress and high-heeled white boots. Even her hair was fashionable, though not as high as Molly’s.

“Ready?” asked Molly, stowing her wand in a hidden pocket inside her dress. Andromeda smiled.  
“Ready” she replied, tucking her own wand into one boot. With a deep breath, Andromeda glanced at Molly, opened the dormitory door and, together, they headed to the feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for what happens at the dance itself! Hope you're all enjoying so far, please feel free to leave feedback in the comments, including concrit, and let me know if you spot any anachronisms! xx


	8. I Saw Her Standing There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hogwarts school dance of Halloween Night, 1963. A night few of those present would forget in a hurry.

Ted, Archie, Amos and Euan bounded down to the feast in high spirits. The latter three were all wearing wizarding dress robes in variably eye-hurting shades of green, yellow and orange. Ted didn’t own dress robes, and he didn’t fancy going in his school ones. He had almost wished he had a suit, until he’d got the bright idea to borrow Arthur’s Pendleton jacket. He still wore his Hufflepuff tie as a nod to formality, but next to his friends he couldn’t help but think they must be a lot less comfy than he felt in slacks and a pale blue shirt. It went with the jacket, and overall he thought he looked pretty neat. As they reached the Hufflepuff table, Ted spotted Molly walk in the door with a very pretty girl he didn’t know. Both were dressed to the nines – Molly in a colourful paisley while her friend’s elegant robes were a watery blue-green. He waved at them cheerfully as they sat down over at the Gryffindor table, and when Molly spotted him and waved back enthusiastically he was surprised to see her companion give a shy wave, too.

Taking a look around the hall, he spotted a few more people he knew. Arthur was already sitting with Molly and her brothers, while Tony Chang and Pandora Goldstein were at opposite ends of the Ravenclaw table. Tony was seated with the rest of the first-years from their Potions class, but the dainty blonde who shared his success in Potions was surrounded by boys from a variety of years. She was listening with a look of polite interest to a rather bug-eyed boy with long, messy white-blonde hair. He was wearing psychedelic pink robes and straw flip-flops (_In October? _Ted puzzled), and Ted noticed several of Pandora’s would-be-admirers throwing him looks of contempt. Just then, Arthur Weasley wandered over to the Hufflepuff table.

“Hiya Arthur! How’re you doing?” Ted greeted the older boy, who smiled at him and his house mates.  
“Hullo! That jacket looks good on you, are they typical Muggle dress robes, then?” Ted shrugged in reply. Then, curious, he added:  
“Who’s the hippie talking to Pandora Goldstein?” Arthur glanced in the direction Ted was pointing, then laughed.  
“Oh, that’s Xeno Lovegood. He’s pretty out there, all flower power and going on about mythical creatures that nobody’s ever heard of. He’s probably telling her all about pyewackets and Jenny Greenteeth.” Ted decided not to ask what those were, instead pondering aloud –  
“What’s Goldstein talking to him for, then?”  
“Dunno, they’re both in Ravenclaw, and he’s a third-year, maybe he helps her out with homework or something?”

Ted thought it highly unlikely that Goldstein – who never turned in homework late and was fast becoming one of Slughorn’s pet projects since he’d discovered her skill at Charms as well as Potions – would need help from a flake like Lovegood, but Arthur didn’t know that. He cast an eye over to the Slytherin table, where Bellatrix Black was holding court as usual, wearing a horrible black and white pinafore that looked like something out of a Victorian photograph and laughing at something the boy beside her had said. Andromeda was nowhere to be seen, and Ted wondered whether she’d punked out on attending the feast after all. He was just wondering what Bellatrix would turn him into if he walked over and asked where her sister was when the food arrived, and all thoughts of worry were driven from his mind.

Ted had never seen so much pumpkin in one place. He knew it was more popular with wizards than Muggles in general terms, but this something else. Apart from the usual pumpkin pasties and pumpkin juice that he saw most mornings on the breakfast table: there was pumpkin soup, pumpkin mash and whole pumpkins stuffed with stewed meat and chunks of, yep, more pumpkin. He also noticed that the sweet dishes seemed to be being served at the same time as the main course, he guessed because wizards, too, enjoyed their sweets at Halloween – or maybe because there were only so many savoury dishes you could make with pumpkin. He saw pumpkin pie, pumpkin teabread and pumpkin jelly and blancmange dotted along the table alongside the main dishes. Besides all the various bright orange offerings there were also vats of baked beans cooked with sausages and bacon, baked potatoes and huge fluffy baked apples stuffed with raisins and syrup. Then there were the enormous bowls of sweets – magical and Muggle – and platters of cauldron cakes and toffee apples that completed this vision of perfection. Overhead, live black bats soared as a kind of decoration and the usual floating candles that normally lit the hall had been placed inside impressively carved jack-o-lanterns, bathing the whole room in a soft orange glow.

Ted and his fellow Hufflepuffs tucked into the feast with great gusto, eating their way through everything on offer until only a collection of suspicious brown and green Every Flavour Beans remained at the bottom of their bowl. When at last everyone had eaten their fill, students began to rise from their house tables and drift over to greet friends elsewhere in the hall. With a nod to Archie and Euan, Ted stood up slowly, feeling like a sit down might be in order before he attempted any dancing. Halfway to the Gryffindor table, he was met once again by Arthur, who had clearly also decided it was time to socialise. Arthur was wearing a rather old-fashioned set of dark magenta robes that didn’t suit him at all, and he looked slightly uncomfortable.  
“All right?” Ted asked, giving his friend a cheery pat on the back.  
“Hmm?” said Arthur, apparently jolted from whatever he’d been thinking about, “Oh yes, fine, thanks!” he reassured Ted, glancing back over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table. “Listen,” he said, and Ted thought he sounded as nervous as he looked. “Do you want to come and sit over with us for a bit? Until the dancing starts, anyway?” Ted took ‘us’ to mean Arthur and the Prewetts, and he couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he replied  
“Moral support, is it? ‘Course I will, mate, I’m your friend, aren’t I?” Arthur was looking rather pink around the ears, always a warning sign, and Ted had to take pity on him. He supposed this was one of the things you had to deal with when you hung out with the third-years. “Come on, we’ll go together!” he declared, and, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulders, he guided him back to Gryffindor table.

Sure enough, Molly was seated across from the empty space that was obviously Arthur’s place at the table. Ted felt a twinge of sympathy: the gap was between her two older brothers. With a smile at Molly, who even he had to admit was looking radiant – her fiery hair was even bigger than normal, and she was wearing green eyeshadow that matched her dress – he gently elbowed Fabian into budging up and making space so he could sit himself between Fabe and Arthur. Taking his seat, Ted found himself opposite Molly’s sweet-looking friend in the blue-green robes. Closer up, he thought she looked kind of familiar. Her brown hair was ratted up in the same style as Molly’s, though less dramatically, and she seemed to be wearing the same green eyeshadow which drew attention to her bright brown eyes. Meeting her gaze, Ted’s own grey eyes narrowed as he took in the long black lashes and slightly heavy eyelids. Then he gasped and jumped back in his seat, nearly falling off the bench to be caught by a laughing Fabian.

“_Andromeda?!” _he managed, as Molly threw back her head and cackled at him and even Arthur managed a chuckle. His Transfiguration partner gave a small smile but said nothing as he continued to splutter at her. “_Wow_, ‘Dromeda, you look… I mean, I didn’t even recognise you! Unreal, Man, _unreal._” The girl bridled a little.  
“Thanks, Ted” she said, quietly, as Molly tried to compose herself next to her, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.  
“Merlin’s boots, Man, you laid me a trip, I looked right at you with not a clue who you were! I was starting to think you hadn’t come after all” exclaimed Ted, somewhat indignant that his friends were still laughing at him. Apparently Molly had recovered enough to speak, because she leaned forward on one elbow and explained  
“Bellatrix hasn’t recognised her yet, either. We’re waiting to see how long it takes her to realise her sister’s been here the whole time.” The redhead’s eyes were still twinkling, and Ted supposed he should be grateful he wasn’t the only butt to tonight’s big joke. He snuck a glance over at the Slytherin table. Bellatrix was still in conversation with her usual gang of friends, but he noticed a few of the boys seemed to have drifted away into a rubbernecking knot at the other end of the Slytherin table, not unlike the one around Pandora Goldstein. Suddenly, all four house tables disappeared and reappeared against the back wall of the hall. As he got up from his own seat, Ted saw a figure rise from the centre of the scrum of Slytherin boys. A tall black girl spectacularly adorned with gold jewellery and a magnificent set of what looked like traditional African dress robes, her hair was up in a huge beehive and wrapped in a bright twist of cloth that matched her green and yellow robes. Ted realised that, although she was flanked by a boy on each arm, she didn’t look that old. He wondered where he’d seen her before – and then he realised.

“’Dromeda, isn’t that your friend? From Transfiguration? Dinah?” Andromeda looked up, then quickly ducked her head and turned her back on the girl.  
“Donna” she muttered in reply. “If we’re lucky she won’t notice me either, else she’s bound to let Bella know.” As a student band emerged onto a golden stage at the front of the hall and the benches vanished to join the tables against the wall, Ted furrowed his brow and asked  
“What’s so bad about your sister knowing you’re here? Everyone else is!” Andromeda stared at him for a moment, before rolling her eyes.  
“It’s not _where _I am that’s the problem, is it?” she asked, before sweeping away after Molly towards a punchbowl and glasses that had appeared on the tables at the back. Ted and Arthur shared a confused look, before wandering over to the side of the room to lean against the wall.

The band began to play, and they watched as a few couples began to take to the floor. Ted didn’t recognise the song, but he knew wizards had their own music as well as everything else. It was a jazzy, soulful number which Ted thought was nice if you liked that sort of thing. Arthur was humming along quietly beside him.

“Do you know the song, then?” Ted asked.  
“What? Oh… yes, it’s a Celestina Warbeck number, you must have heard her on the wireless?” said Arthur absently, watching the dancers.  
“The one that Molly likes?”  
“Hmph” came the evasive reply. Ted followed Arthur’s gaze and spotted Molly at the far end of the hall, introducing Andromeda to a group of Hufflepuffs that included Amelia Bones and Amos Diggory. Ted thought Amos looked a bit of a square in his bright yellow robes. House pride was all very well, he thought irritably, adjusting his tie, but at least he didn’t look like a canary.

Then he kicked himself. It wasn’t Amos’ fault he had thick, shiny brown hair that flopped stylishly over his forehead, or that he was talking to Ted’s friends while Ted was stuck making small talk with an Arthur who had turned into a wallflower the second the dancing started. It wasn’t even Amos’ fault that he actually (Ted admitted grudgingly) looked quite good in neon yellow dress robes while Ted didn’t even have a Muggle suit. Some Hufflepuff he’d be if he sulked whenever one of his friends looked groovier than he did.

“Come on, Art, let’s go and find the chicks. At least we’ll have someone to talk to if we’re not gonna dance” Ted coaxed his friend, who sighed and allowed himself to be dragged by the sleeve of his robes to where the girls stood by the punchbowls. “Wotcher, Molly! ‘Dromeda” Ted called as they reached them. Molly waved and introduced the gaggle of girls around her. Ted noticed that none of Amelia Bones, Chloe Beckett or Maggie Skeeter were as nicely done-up as Molly or Andromeda. Amelia was wearing her school robes over a chocolate brown dress, and shades to hide her squint; while Chloe, like him, was in Muggle party-wear. Skeeter he didn’t know, but Molly explained she was a second-year Ravenclaw. Her green dress robes were ill-fitting, and she wore thick granny glasses. She had a plain, forgettable face and greasy, straight blonde hair. Ted caught her eye as she looked over her glasses at him, and he hurriedly looked away to help himself to punch. He heard Arthur come up beside him to fill his own glass and muttered out of the corner of his mouth “Go on, ask her to dance. Worst she can do is say no!” Arthur turned quite red under his freckles.  
“Exactly!” he whispered hotly, his hands shaking as he took a sip from his punch glass. “You’re a first-year, you wouldn’t understand!” Ted felt quite hurt that Arthur thought him too young to appreciate the subtleties of teenage love, but he didn’t think now was the time to argue about it.

As the band started playing a lively twist number, Ted downed his pumpkin punch and put his glass down, shuffling a little to the beat, absent-mindedly. Chloe Beckett spotted him and put down her own drink to join in the twist as a few other people around them began to dance. Resigned to teaching Muggle solo dance moves again for the rest of the night, he was attempting to do the hitch hike without getting disoriented and hitting someone when he noticed a silent conversation going on across the circle that had formed. Arthur was even redder than he had been earlier, and was beginning to blend into the dark pink of his robes. He was at least looking at Molly, and opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. Ted thought he looked a bit like a goldfish. He watched as Molly stared expectantly at Arthur, arms folded. Ted stopped dancing to wait with bated breath; but when Arthur still didn’t say anything, he saw Molly raise one eyebrow, shrug and turn back to watch the dancers. Ted hurriedly started twisting again, but Molly spotted him. Her voice rang out over the music and chatter.

“Hey, Ted, come and dance with me!” Ted looked askance at her, but Molly was having none of it. Without even waiting for a reply, she grabbed him by the elbow and led him off to the centre of the hall, where couples were already dancing all around them. Seizing his left hand and placing it firmly on her waist, she took his other hand in hers and they began to dance. As the band struck up a waltz, Ted leaned forward and muttered “He’s going to kill me, you know that, right?” Molly grimaced, her normally dainty features marred by a look of exasperation as her lip curled up.  
“You’ll be fine” she said, wincing as Ted stepped on her toes. “Can’t you tell him to get a grip? I’m not going to wait around all night when I could be dancing!”

Ted considered this. “Dancing with everyone you can find isn’t going to help your cause, you know”, he suggested, as Molly sniffed.  
“No, but it’ll make me feel better” she admitted, as they returned to their friends at the back “Let him know if he doesn’t get a move on it won’t just be the first-years I’m dancing with”. Ted was a bit fed up with suddenly being a ‘first-year’ instead of our mate, Ted, when it came to matters of the heart, but he led Molly back to the group politely. Returning her to her girlfriends, he pulled Arthur aside. The older boy’s look was hostile.

“Oh, give me a break, it’s only me!” he scolded his friend, shaking his head. “It won’t be if you don’t make a move soon, though. I think she’s hurt you didn’t ask her earlier and now she’s going to dance with everyone else to show she doesn’t care. Girls do weird stuff like that, but I reckon it’s best if you dance to their tune” he advised Arthur, sagely.  
“I… I’m not asking her in front of everyone!” Arthur muttered defensively. Ted had to do his best to stop himself rolling his eyes like Bellatrix Black.  
“Oh, don’t be silly, it’s easy, look!” and in a moment of wild enthusiasm, determined to jolly his friend along, he stepped back towards the girls and called out:

“Hey, ‘Dromeda, dance with me!”

As Andromeda turned to face him with a look of shock, a high-pitched scream of laughter echoed from the far side of the expanded circle of dancers.

“You! Why would she dance with _you_?” With a sinking feeling, Ted recognised the voice. Bellatrix stood at the fore of a gaggle of Slytherins – all older than him, all well-known and respected by many at the school. And all were staring at him and trying to hide their amusement – except for Bellatrix, who was still cackling openly, her head held high. Ted looked on helplessly as the older girl, her face painfully familiar and yet so different to her sister’s, marched forward to stand beside Andromeda. As Bellatrix’s eyes took in his messy hair and Muggle attire, Ted realised everyone else had turned to stare. Some were looking at him, and some (he realised guiltily) at Andromeda.

“You wouldn’t want to go with _that, _would you, Romy?” Bellatrix asked, her dark eyes glittering dangerously as she turned to her sister.

Andromeda looked back at Ted, and he saw her hesitate. For one shining moment Ted thought he saw her take a step, as if to defy her sister and walk across the circle to him, to her real friends.

Then, with her sister, her house and what seemed like the whole world looking on, Andromeda folded her arms and gave a tiny shake of her head.

Distantly, he heard Molly gasp behind him. He felt himself be pulled away through the crowd, dimly aware of Archie and Euan leading him. As Bellatrix’s laughter echoed in his ears, he caught sight of Arthur, who had fallen back against the wall. His friend met his eyes, offering a grimace and a tilt of his head that Ted understood perfectly to mean “I told you so”. As his house mates steered him out into the Entrance Hall, Ted caught a glimpse of the hall behind them through the closing doors. Molly stood silhouetted in the light; her face impossible to read. Behind her, Andromeda was being ushered away by her sister’s friends.

“Out of our league, old chum”, he heard Archie say in what he probably thought was a sympathetic tone.  
“I… I thought she was my friend” whispered Ted, sitting down with a thump at the bottom of the stairs. Archie and Euan sat beside him, as Archie offered a manly pat on the back.  
“Slytherins don’t have friends outside their own house” he murmured wisely. “I know you work together in Transfiguration, but if a Slytherin babe gives you the time of day, its probably because they want something. Not that it’s anything personal!” Archie amended hastily, “But she probably just needed your help with Transfiguration, she wasn’t expecting you to talk to her outside of class–”  
“No!” Ted, not normally one to contradict his friends, interrupted “She’s not like that, we were getting along–”  
“People like her just don’t mix with people like us, that’s all, Ted” Euan said sadly.  
“People like me, you mean” Ted corrected him, distinctly rattled. “Honestly, if I’d known there was going to be such a fuss here about my parents not being magic I wouldn’t have come!” Both of his friends came from pure-blood families all the way back, he knew. Even Amos was a half-blood. No, the Slytherins’ scorn and Bellatrix’s mockery were reserved only for him. And now it had cost him one of his best friends. Or so he thought.

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall opened and a figure in turquoise came running out. Ted stood as Andromeda appeared in the hallway, and their eyes met. Her hair had started to come out of its carefully coiffed updo, and her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying. She stared at him for one long moment, but just as he took a step forward she turned and ran down the stairs towards the Slytherin common room, and his friends grabbed him by his sleeves and tugged him back down into a sitting position.

“See? She doesn’t want to talk to you right now. Let it be” Archie said softly, as Ted angrily swiped a tear from his eyes. The last thing he needed was to start crying like a little kid in front of his dorm mates.  
“Running after her isn’t going to help” Euan murmured soothingly. “Come on, she’ll have got past our floor by now. Let’s head back to the dorm.”

As they plodded downstairs towards their common room, Ted wondered what Arthur had done after they’d left. Run and hid, probably. Gryffindor or not, he wasn’t going to talk to Molly after witnessing a fiasco like that. Maybe Ted should have listened to Arthur’s advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was quite difficult to write. I'm sorry to leave you all on a low note, but rest assured more chapters will be coming soon! Hope everyone is enjoying so far, and as always leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed! Xx


	9. In Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks later, Andromeda plucks up the courage to speak to Molly for the first time since the dance.

On the morning of Saturday the 23rd of November, almost a month after the events of the dance, the Slytherin table was consumed by a groggy quiet. In the past few weeks, Andromeda had retreated into herself, sitting with Bellatrix and her friends at mealtimes; and she had taken to sitting at the back in lessons so she couldn’t see the wounded, confused looks Ted Tonks kept giving her. This meant Donna, a creature of habit who preferred the front row, was no longer partnered with her in most classes. It was a rather lonely experience. Although she’d kept ratting her hair the way Molly had shown her – it was easier than curling it and neater than leaving it loose – she hadn’t dared approach the girl or any of her Gryffindor friends since Halloween. This morning, seated beside Bellatrix, Andromeda said nothing as she picked at her breakfast, glancing up slightly as the morning flurry of post owls sailed down from above.

Several of her fellow Slytherins looked up with interest as a monstrous eagle owl swooped gracefully down to land between the two sisters. Andromeda recognised it as their mother’s, and idly untied a letter from around its leg. Glancing at the address, she handed it to Bella.  
“It’s for you” she murmured tiredly as Bellatrix took the envelope with her thanks. She opened it and scanned quickly down the lines of text, then stopped. “What does she say?” Andromeda asked – news from home was rarely anything especially exciting, although it was always nice to hear word of Narcissa. Bellatrix frowned slightly.  
“She wants me to learn Occlumency. Says she’ll start teaching me when we get home for the holidays.” Andromeda wracked her brains. Occlumency was something that she thought their mother might have mentioned once or twice before. She seemed to remember Mama saying it was something a young lady learned in preparation for marriage arrangements and social functions. Some kind of charm that helped you keep your thoughts to yourself. Privately, Andromeda thought that it sounded exactly what the hot-headed, impetuous Bella needed.  
“Merry Christmas to you then, I suppose” Andromeda told her sister, who rolled her eyes and went back to her toast.

Just then there was a small scream from the Ravenclaw table. Everyone in the hall turned to look. Pandora Goldstein was standing, a handsome barn owl on the table before her, staring wide-eyed at a letter which she clutched in one trembling hand. She clapped the other hand over her mouth. For a second Andromeda wondered if someone had sent the lovely blonde a curse in the post, for she seemed to have lost the power of speech. Then the young Ravenclaw looked up and her hand dropped. Her normally rosy-cheeked face had gone quite white. She met the eyes of Professor McGonagall, who was looking askance at her from the top table, and with a voice that shook she announced to the room:

“The President’s been shot!”

A few people gasped, and there was a susurration from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables while multiple Ravenclaws began to deluge Pandora with questions. Andromeda looked around and was relieved to see that most of the other Slytherins looked as puzzled as she felt. From all three other tables she caught snatches of conversation.

“…the president…”  
“…the Muggle president….”  
“…Who did it, do they know?”

All of her immediate neighbours still looked like they had no idea what was going on. Bella was appealing to Rodolphus Lestrange, but he seemed as bewildered as the rest of them. Andromeda thought the Muggles had a Minister, not a President? And what did “shot” mean? It sounded bad, was this Muggle slang for an attack of some kind? However, Andromeda noticed two Slytherins a little further down the table who looked like they might know what was happening. Dolly Umbridge, a mousy-haired fifth-year who Andromeda had heard rumours was a half-blood (though she claimed otherwise) was gazing, tight lipped into her cup of tea. And a first-year boy, a quiet lad called Joseph Higglebottom who’d been ostracised since the first week after unwisely revealing that his mother was a Muggle, was sitting with his hand over his mouth, the mirror-image of Pandora.

Andromeda glanced sideways at Bellatrix. She’d been keeping her head down around her sister since the disaster at the dance, but nobody else seemed to have a clue what was going on.  
“What is it, Joe?” she asked, quietly. The boy stared at her. She doubted he’d expected anyone to ask him for information, least of all Bellatrix Black’s sister. His eyes flickered between her and Bella, and he gulped. Then, his voice almost a whisper, he met Andromeda’s eyes and said “The… the Muggle President of the United States – h…he’s sort of like their Prime Minister, he leads the American Muggles – he’s been murdered.”

Several of Bella’s friends, normally loathe to associate with Joe, began to fire questions at him. Bella, meanwhile, shook her head and scoffed.  
“Is that all they’re twittering about?” she whispered to Andromeda “Who cares what happens to the mud-grubbing Muggles? The Muggle leader – what a joke!” she sniffed as if to emphasise her opinion of people who concerned themselves with the affairs of Muggles, then tossed her curls behind her and stood up. With a meaningful look at Rodolphus, who hastily stopped listening to Higglebottom’s explanation of American Muggle democracy, Bellatrix declared she was off to get her gloves for Herbology and swept away. Andromeda waited until her sister was at a safe distance before following her – she had Potions first thing and she needed to grab her kit.

When Andromeda reached her dorm, it was empty – Donna and Diana were still at breakfast – and she strode over to the trunk at the end of her bed and dug through it for the Potions kit. As she lifted it out, her hand brushed against something soft, and she realised that Molly Prewett’s turquoise dress robes were still at the bottom, along with her boots. Andromeda felt a stab of guilt – she had completely forgotten to return the clothes to Molly after the dance. The dress and boots were still exactly as they’d landed when she’d flung them, furious, into her trunk four weeks ago. Lifting the dress out, she felt another wave of guilt and shame hit her as she saw how wrinkled it was from not being folded. It was a mark of how upset Andromeda had been that she hadn’t taken the time to fold up the dress after taking it off. Normally she wouldn’t dream of being so careless with good robes, especially someone else’s. Laying the dress out on top of her quilt, Andromeda bit her lip. Then, taking out her wand, she tried to remember what Dot, the Blacks’ laundrymaid, used to do to get the wrinkles out. It was a sort of squiggle…

“Flatus calidum!” she waved her wand in a figure of eight. To her relief, a jet of hot air blew from the end of her wand, smoothing the worst of the wrinkles. She’d never tried that charm before; at least she’d be able to hand the dress back to Molly in decent condition. She folded the dress carefully, and along with the white boots and her Potions equipment, she placed it in her satchel and set off for Slughorn’s lesson.

***

After two and a half hours of Potions, between making polite conversation with Slughorn about members of her family she hadn’t heard from in years and listening to him extol Donna as a potioneering prodigy, Andromeda was quite relieved to escape – even if the alternative was following the Gryffindors up countless flights of stairs to their tower.

“Wait, why are you coming with us? You’re in Slytherin!” said Luca Zabini, noticing Andromeda for the first time as they emerged into the light of the Entrance Hall.  
“I need to see someone in your house” she muttered in reply, hitching her satchel strap from where it had been digging uncomfortably into her shoulder. “Would you might finding Molly Prewett for me when we get to your common room? I don’t want to barge in without an invitation.” Zabini shrugged.  
“Yeah, all right then. I didn’t know any of the Slytherins had friends in Gryffindor!” Andromeda nervously chewed on her lip. She wasn’t so sure about that herself.

When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Zabini and his friends paused and gave Andromeda a wary look. “Stick your fingers in your ears, we’re not supposed to give you the password” he instructed, and Andromeda did as she was told. She saw him turn and address the portrait, which swung across to let the boys in. Evidently Molly was already in the common room, because rather than going to find her Zabini simply called out: “Oi, Prewett! Your friend’s here, wants to see you!” Andromeda heard Molly’s cheery voice echo from inside.  
“Oh OK, hang on, Ted!” Andromeda felt her face grow hot. It obviously wasn’t her Molly was expecting to see.

Sure enough, when Molly’s face appeared at the portrait hole her eyes widened, and her eyebrows shot up. “Oh. It’s you” she said, blankly. Andromeda forced herself to make eye contact, but Molly’s expression had become impassive, unreadable. She sighed inwardly.  
“Yes, it’s me” she confirmed. Feeling something else was expected of her, she added “I came to give back your boots and… and the dress.” She could feel herself blushing again – that dress symbolised everything she had pretended to be that night at the dance: older, cooler, someone from a less ancient, stuffy family. And where had that got her? Publicly humiliated, when it fooled naïve, Muggle-born Ted into underestimating the danger of trying to mix with pure-bloods.

Molly stepped out of the portrait hole, letting it swing shut behind her. She folded her arms and gave Andromeda a peculiar look that made her feel as though she were five years old again, and being cross-examined by her mother to determine which daughter had eaten the chocolate éclairs. There was a moment of silence. Then Molly unfolded her arms and leaned back against the gold picture frame.

“Keep them.” Andromeda gaped at her, as the redhead continued with a shrug “The dress looked better on you anyway, and I don’t want to go back and unpick all those seams we took in. Keep it, it’s yours.”

Andromeda struggled with herself for a moment. Close to tears, she managed to gasp “_Why_ are you being so _nice_? I haven’t done anything for you!” Molly let out an exasperated sigh, and suddenly she stepped forward and grabbed Andromeda’s arm, practically frogmarching her down the corridor. Her grip was vice-like, and when they reached a door towards the end, Molly muscled her way through into what turned out to be an empty classroom, dragging Andromeda with her and kicking the door shut behind them. She released Andromeda’s bicep, and the younger girl tried to shake some feeling back into her hand. For a girl who was so short and squat, Molly’s beater’s training had made her deceptively strong.

“Right”, whispered Molly, her voice dangerously calm. “Before I answer your question, I want to ask _you_ a few things.” Andromeda’s eyes widened, but she nodded. Molly took a step back and put her hands on her hips. “I understand why you freaked out about dancing with Ted on Halloween, what with your sister being a cow and him asking in front of everyone and all. Anyway, I’d be the last person to tell you to dance with anyone you don’t want to”. Andromeda, blushing, nodded. She didn’t think now was the time to take offence at the slight on Bella. Molly continued. “However, that’s no reason to ignore him completely or treat him like some kind of joke like Bellatrix seems to think. It’s not Ted’s fault he’s Muggle born, and you can’t blame him for daring to like you!” Molly’s words hit Andromeda like a slap in the face. _When she’s pissed off you’ll know about it_, Ted had said. The fiery Gryffindor wasn’t done. “He is your _friend!_” she spat, her voice rising, “Or he’s trying to be! You can’t just kick him to the kerb like this, I’m sorry if he embarrassed you in front of your sister and her goons but sending him to Nurmengard when he only wants to make friends isn’t fair and you’re not doing yourself any favours either. Why won’t you talk to him? Why won’t you talk to _us_? Don’t tell me you want Bellatrix’s clique for your only friends, because I’m not stupid, I can _see _you’re not happy around them and I never figured you for a sell-out!” Molly paused, breathing heavily. Then, seeing the tears pouring silently down Andromeda’s cheeks, she took a step back and her tone softened.

“Please, Andromeda, talk to me. I want to help, we all do, but cutting yourself off and ignoring us all isn’t the answer. You’re hurting Ted, and you’re hurting yourself. Tell me why you’re doing this!”

Andromeda wasn’t sure what to say. There were a thousand good reasons to distance herself from her impulsive Muggle-born classmate and his outspoken, progressive friends – but in the moment at the dance only one of them had mattered.

“She’ll go after him. Bellatrix - she’d _kill him _if she saw us together_, _Molly, and it would be my fault” she whispered. Molly’s expression went from imploring to incredulous, but Andromeda needed her to understand. “You don’t know her like I do! You saw her on the train, she nearly hexed him then, I don’t know what would have happened if Gideon didn’t stop her! She _really hates _mud– …Muggle-borns, it’s just what our parents taught us! Except Bella, she really believes it, and she’s got _no self-control. _When she gets angry, she flies off the handle and starts throwing jinxes, and she doesn’t stop! When she… when she was six, she threw our house-elf down the stairs without touching her! And then she laughed!” Crying in earnest now, Andromeda desperately willed Molly to see sense “M…molly, if she sees Ted around me again she’ll l…lose it and he could get _h…hurt_!”

Molly was staring at Andromeda with the oddest expression on her face. Then, before Andromeda realised what was happening, she had crossed the distance between them and thrown her arms protectively around the younger girl who, after freezing momentarily from the shock, gave in to sobbing on the redhead’s shoulder. As she felt Molly pat her hair, she turned her head to see the freckled third-year looking down at her, still wearing that strange expression. “W…what?” choked Andromeda defensively. Molly gave a small shrug.  
“You’re the strangest Slytherin I’ve ever met” she murmured. “Don’t look at me like that, I just wasn’t expecting you to say that!”

Andromeda didn’t understand. “What _were_ you expecting me to say?” Molly quirked an eyebrow.  
“I didn’t think it would be Ted you were afraid for. You’ll forgive me if I suggest most Slytherins would be more interested in saving their own neck?” Andromeda disentangled herself and considered this. She supposed that was what the Sorting Hat had meant by “_a healthy sense of self-preservation”_, and in truth she was scared of Bellatrix herself, a little. But she was much more worried about what Bella would do to Ted if she thought he was corrupting her sister.

“Well, she’d be furious at me, too, but if she went after Ted because of me I’d never forgive myself. I can’t risk it, Molly, he doesn’t understand what he’s getting into, being friends with me!” Molly, to Andromeda’s surprise, looked pensive rather than worried.

“Well” she said thoughtfully “I don’t think you should have to worry so much what your sister says. I know she’s family, but you’re your own person – at the end of the day, look, who _cares _what Bellatrix thinks?” Andromeda went to interrupt her, but Molly held up a hand. “OK, OK, I dig what you’re saying about her maybe trying to hurt him – but don’t you think that between him and his friends Ted can look after himself? All right, maybe avoid her catching you alone together but when all’s said and done, she’s just one snippy second-year! If she gives you any trouble, let us know, we’ll sort her out – Fabe and Giddy and Arthur and me! You’re allowed to have friends, and one neat thing about friends is, they do things like help you stand up to your mental sister and stop her from jinxing anybody.” Molly grinned, and for the first time Andromeda realised the principled, righteous Gryffindors might not be so wedded to the rules as all that. She must have still been looking worried, because Molly sighed and said “Look, if it makes you feel better, just tell Bellatrix that it’s me and my brothers you’re hanging out with. She doesn’t think much of Arthur, everyone knows the Weasleys are the proudest lot of blood-traitors in Britain, but she’ll find it hard justifying to your parents why you can’t be friends with me. We Prewetts aren’t exactly purists either, but my uncle Ignatius married into the Black family, and knowing anything about your relatives that ought to be good enough for them!”

Andromeda thought it over, unable to find an argument against this plan of Molly’s. But one question was still nagging at her mind. Shaking her head, she looked up at the older girl.  
“All right, but look – why _are _you being so nice to me?” Molly sighed, but she didn’t start shouting again.

“Andromeda, if Bellatrix is anything to go by I’m guessing you’ve never heard this much at home, but has it never occurred to you that the people who like you might want to do nice things for you without expecting anything in return?” Andromeda turned red, biting her lip. Molly tutted and said dryly “If it helps you sleep at night, there is one thing I’d like you to do.” Andromeda nodded – if there was anything she could do to repay Molly’s kindness; she would do it. The older girl looked her square in the eye.

“Apologise to Ted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Ted forgive Andromeda for avoiding him? And what will Bellatrix say if she sees Andromeda consorting with mudbloods and blood-traitors? Stay tuned to find out! As always leave kudos and comment if you enjoyed, and the next chapter will be up as soon as it's finished! Xx


	10. A Charming Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda's conversation with Molly gave her a lot to think about.

As it happened, Andromeda’s first lesson after lunch (which she had missed thanks to her discussion with Molly) was Charms. With the Hufflepuffs. Charms was normally one of Andromeda’s favourite subjects – spritely young Professor Flitwick was new this year, and clearly determined to earn himself a reputation as a ‘cool’ teacher. Only twenty years old and barely coming up to Andromeda’s shoulders; the class had initially been rather sceptical of his ability to command respect. That was until they’d discovered that in the two years since he left Hogwarts he had become a duelling champion and was the favourite to win the singles title at the International Duelling Tournament at Wimbledon that year. Professor Flitwick called them all by their first names, offered words of encouragement rather than condescension when a charm proved difficult and, once he’d discovered Andromeda’s aptitude for the subject, had started giving her a list of interesting OWL-level charms to try at the beginning of each class and leaving her to her own devices while he helped the others. Until Halloween this had given her plenty of time to help Ted with his own charmwork, with time for a nice chat along the way. Recently, though, Charms had been a lonely affair.

When she reached the Charms corridor, everyone else had already filed into the classroom. Taking a deep breath, Andromeda pushed the door open and made her way to her accustomed seat at the back, trying to ignore the concerned, grey-eyed stare that followed her from the front row. Just because she knew she had to talk to Ted again, didn’t mean Andromeda felt like meeting his eyes right now. Accepting a cushion and instructions on banishing charms from Flitwick, Andromeda tuned out as the little professor began to explain the Alohomora spell to the rest of the class. They had obviously moved on from levitation charms after last lesson. This train of thought gave Andromeda an idea. As Flitwick conjured instructions on the blackboard and settled down behind his desk to do some marking, Andromeda extracted a sheet of parchment from her bag. Steeling herself, she dipped her quill in the inkwell on her desk and paused, her hand shaking slightly over the parchment. After a moment’s thought she put pen to paper and wrote:

_We need to talk. Wait around after class?_

After glancing around to check no-one was looking, Andromeda blew impatiently on the ink. When it was dry, she deftly folded the parchment into a paper dart and pointed her wand at it. “Wingardium leviosa” she muttered, and watched as the paper glider soared over to land on Ted Tonks’ desk. Andromeda ducked her head as he turned around incredulously, then bit her lip as he turned to read the message.

Ted had only just mastered the levitation charm, and only on feathers. After scrawling a reply, he simply folded the parchment back up and threw it at Andromeda. It landed under her desk, and she retrieved it with a summoning charm.

_Couldn’t agree more. Can’t though, herbology next, it’s gonna take all break to get to the greenhouse. Later?_

Checking again that Flitwick was still absorbed in his marking, Andromeda scribbled a reply underneath, this time using a hot-air charm to dry the ink faster.

_Meet me on the Astronomy Tower after dinner?_

Again she levitated it back to him. She saw his eyebrows go up as he caught and unfolded it. Andromeda met his eyes for the first time, feeling her face grow hot with guilt at how bewildered he looked. Then he nodded, and threw the paper dart back without writing a reply. Unfortunately he had neither folded it up properly nor checked behind him for Flitwick, so the young professor saw it veer off-course and land several yards away from Andromeda’s desk. Ted wheeled round as Flitwick exclaimed “Edward Tonks!”

Panicking, Andromeda realised that even if she summoned it back Flitwick would likely ask to see it. He was chilled-out, as teachers went, but there was an ancient policy held in the shared consciousness of teachers everywhere of what to do in cases of note-passing. In the split-second Flitwick’s back was turned to berate Ted, and the rest of the class were likewise distracted, Andromeda frantically aimed her wand at the dart and whispered “Obliterate!” She couldn’t see from where she sat whether it had worked, but all she could do was hope she’d successfully erased their correspondence.

She returned her attention to Flitwick, who was asking Ted “Edward, why did you throw a paper aeroplane at Andromeda?” As Ted spluttered, Andromeda decided that she’d better rescue him, and maybe that’d put him in a better frame of mind to accept her apology later. She cleared her throat and interrupted loudly, saying “I’m sorry, it was my fault, Professor, I tried to banish it and it hit him in the back of the head! Ted was just throwing it back to me!”

She held her breath as Flitwick picked up the parchment. Behind him, Ted was giving a double thumbs-up for her improvised excuse, but he froze when Flitwick started to unfold the dart. Andromeda realised Ted had no idea she’d obliterated the message, although she herself wasn’t sure it had worked. Then she let out a sigh of relief as Flitwick opened out the paper dart to reveal a blank piece of parchment. Andromeda’s eraser charm had succeeded. Ted immediately tried to disguise his look of relief and confusion as Flitwick turned back to him. Andromeda couldn’t blame him for the momentary lapse in his chess-face though – she didn’t want to imagine what people would have thought if Flitwick had read the note out to the class.

After gently chastising Andromeda for not aiming her banishing charm more carefully, and Ted for not levitating the parchment back to her, Flitwick went back to his desk and Andromeda saw Ted’s shoulders relax as he went back to trying to unlock the box on his desk. She thought he looked about as rattled as she felt.

***

That evening, Andromeda bolted her dinner. This was difficult, because it was soup, and she burned her tongue several times trying to finish it quickly. Bellatrix only rolled her eyes and called her a greedy ogre. Every few seconds Andromeda snuck a glance over at the Hufflepuff table, where Ted was dipping bread and butter into his own bowl of mushroom soup. She saw that he was chatting to several other first-years she recognised from Charms and Transfiguration – three boys and two girls. Andromeda wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it was great that Ted had friends in all houses and years; maybe if they made up he could introduce her. On the other it meant that Ted might not be quite so anxious to reconcile as Andromeda, who barely had friends in her own house. His note – _“Couldn’t agree more” _– had sounded promising, but Andromeda knew better than to assume things were completely copasetic between them. She wasn’t about to accept all of the blame – his actions at the dance had been very rash, and had caused her a lot of embarrassment. But Molly was right, she shouldn’t have given him the cold shoulder for as long as she had, or at all. Andromeda hadn’t meant to punish Ted, only to save herself further humiliation, but Molly’s words – “It’s not Ted’s fault he’s Muggle-born” and “you can’t blame him for daring to like you” had stung and stuck. She realised now that by isolating herself and avoiding Ted in and out of lessons what she had actually done was give the brush-off to one of the only people who’d wanted to be her friend, right at the moment when he, too, had been publicly humiliated and in need of support.

Finishing her soup, Andromeda winced, and only partly because of the mouth-ulcers now forming where the hot liquid had met the inside of her lips. Over on the far side of the hall, Ted was likewise mopping up the last of his soup with the remaining morsels of a bread roll. Andromeda muttered something to Bellatrix about going to the library, and hauled her satchel onto her shoulder. The lie was a good one – the library was en-route to the Astronomy Tower. Reaching the door, she glanced behind her. Bella and Rodolphus were deep in conversation again, and none of the other Slytherins had looked up as she left. But at the Hufflepuff table, Ted, his chin resting on his hand, was looking directly at her. Meeting his gaze, Andromeda tried not to read too much into his wary expression. Shakily, she held up one hand, extended all five fingers, then closed them again before slipping through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one! Sorry to leave it on a bit of a cliffhanger, didn't want to time-jump or change locations three times in one chapter. Next chapter to be published very soon! Leave kudos or a comment if you are looking forward to what comes next xx


	11. Blood Traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda and Ted meet on top of the Astronomy tower.

“Skeeter grassed, you know.”

Andromeda jumped, whirling to face the speaker. It was Ted. She relaxed, but only a little. She’d been standing tapping her toes since she got to the top of the tower, trying to distract herself by admiring the sunset. It hadn’t worked, but at least the waiting was over. Taking a moment to digest what Ted had actually said, she furrowed her brow.  
“…What?” she asked at last, still mentally rehearsing what she was going to say to the boy now standing in front of her, his hands in his pockets. Ted shrugged.  
“It was Margaret Skeeter who told Bellatrix you were with us, at the dance. Molly really freaked out when she realised, said if she’d known she was such a stirrer she’d never’ve let her hang out with you all.”

Andromeda tried to process what this meant. She didn’t suppose it changed very much, but at least it wasn’t anyone they knew.  
“…Oh” she said at last, then silently kicked herself for gaping at him like a silly little girl. Clearing her throat, she said in a slightly steadier voice “I thought she just… you know… found us?”  
“Nah, it was Skeeter being a gossiping little shit – oh, shit, _sorry_!” Ted clapped both hands over his mouth, his honest, round face turning pink. Andromeda rolled her eyes – of all the things to get embarrassed about! All right, his language was a bit… uncouth, but if he knew the kind of words her relatives used to talk about people like him, he’d probably think _she’d _been dragged up in a gutter._ Not_, of course, that being Muggle-born meant he’d been dragged up in a gutter. Shit.

Hastily, she tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry about it, it’s me who should be apologising!” Slowly, Ted dropped his hands from his mouth and stuffed them back in his pockets, still rather red.  
“But… you’re a girl!” he blurted out, as if that explained the matter. Andromeda scoffed.  
“So? Bellatrix is a girl and she’s got a foul mouth on her when she’s crossed!” Ted shuffled his feet, staring at a patch of ground partway between him and Andromeda.  
“My Mum told me never swear around girls” he muttered. Andromeda thought they were getting off the point.

“Never mind that now” she sighed, then continued. “Ted, I… I’m really sorry. About the dance. And, and not talking to you and everything. I just… I panicked, OK, and then… but I really shouldn’t have just cut you off like that, I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry.” At last Ted looked up, and met her gaze with level grey eyes.  
“Nah, I don’t reckon you should’ve” he said softly, and Andromeda felt her heart sink. She knew this might happen, knew he didn’t have to forgive her, but–

“All right, no worries. Just… Don’t do it again, OK?” Andromeda froze, not daring to believe what she was hearing. Ted continued. “Look, I can’t ask you to choose between your friends and your family, and I mean… we hardly know each other, but just – talk to me if there’s a problem, yeah? Next time? You never know, I might be able to help.”

Once again, Andromeda was completely stumped as to why Ted, like Molly, was being so nice to her when she hadn’t earned it. Not only did she seem to be forgiven for not talking to him, but he was actually offering her help if she needed it in future. Lost for words, she simply blinked at him. Ted raised an eyebrow and made a noise that in a less amiable boy might have been called a scoff. Then, suddenly, he took his hands out of his pockets and held one out to Andromeda, taking a step forward.

“Oh, honestly, what did you think I was gonna say? Here, friends?” Andromeda stared at the boy, whose earnest face radiated hopefulness and good cheer as he held out his wand arm. Suddenly, a bizarre thought passed unbidden across Andromeda’s consciousness – _I don’t deserve his friendship. He’s too good for me_. The revelation startled her – a couple of months ago she would never have even considered that she might be unworthy to call a Muggle-born like Ted Tonks a friend. Seeing Ted’s face begin to fall, she realised she had dithered. Putting the thought from her mind, she reached out to take his hand, and shook it.

“Friends” she replied. “Ted, I can’t lie to you, it’s going to be difficult with Bella around. You’ve seen what she’s like, she believes pure-bloods should only mix with other pure-bloods, and she expects me to believe it, too.” Ted nodded his understanding, and she continued. “Molly… Molly suggested a way we can spend time together out of class without causing a fuss. So long as we’re around her or her brothers we can say it’s them I’m there for, and Bella won’t need to know…” she cleared her throat, blushing slightly. “…Won’t need to know I like you just as much.” It was a big admission, and Andromeda thanked the growing darkness for turning the world into monochrome and hiding the embarrassment in her face. Ted looked a bit uncomfortable, but she had to make him understand. “I’m _sorry, _Ted, but you don’t know what it’s _like _with my family! They’re all like that, not just Bella, my parents and all our other relatives, too! I… I really _want _to be your friend, and I’m not going to let them get in the way of that, but we have to be careful, OK?” through the gloom she saw Ted nod slowly.

“OK,” he said at last, “But is your sister really going to be OK with Molly and stuff? I didn’t get the feeling they get along.” Andromeda shrugged.  
“Well, Molly and Arthur are both blood traitors, they say so themselves, but they’re both pure-blood, and we’re even related, distantly. Most of the pure-blood families are.” Ted furrowed his brow, and Andromeda realised that his nose wrinkled endearingly when he frowned, like a child trying to focus very hard on something.  
“What’s a blood traitor?” he asked. Andromeda wondered what it must have been like to grow up sheltered from the implications of blood-purity.  
“It means a pure-blood who associates with Muggles and Muggle-borns. Who doesn’t think they’re better than them.” Ted fixed her with a funny look, and she wondered what he was getting at. Then:  
“Are you a blood traitor?”

Andromeda felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, and her world with it. All her life she’d heard the term bandied about to scorn other witches and wizards. Never once had she considered applying it to herself. _Blood traitor. Scumsucker. Mudwallower. _She stared at Ted, whose grey eyes held a challenging look. Ted, the Mudblood. Ted, her friend.

“I… Yes, I suppose I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay update! Sorry it took a little longer than usual, I just moved countries and started a new job, so it took me a while to settle in and get back to this. Hope you enjoyed, and hopefully once I'm into a routine your regular scheduled programming will resume shortly!


	12. Legilimens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Andromeda and Bellatrix returned home for the holidays, they knew better than to think they could sit back and relax.

“Legilimens.”  
Andromeda watched as Bellatrix grasped the edge of the table that stood between her and their mother, her knuckles white as she tried to block the older witch from her mind.

No sooner had the sisters got home and settled in for the Christmas holidays than their mother had made a start on her latest project: teaching her eldest daughter how to keep her head and hold her tongue in the web of manners and secrecy that sustained polite pure-blood society. No daughter of Druella Black’s would reach adulthood without at least a basic knowledge of how to keep her private life private and her suitors at arm’s length. Occlumency was not the first step, of course – they had all been weaned from the crib on the art of the diplomatic answer, and each of Bellatrix, Andromeda and even Narcissa had learned the value of an expression of polite but vapid interest. However, this new endeavour ensured any information Bellatrix chose to withhold was protected from magical as well as verbal scrutiny. Andromeda knew the Occlumency lessons were an act of love in their way – Mama only wanted to prepare them all before they left school to navigate adulthood and, she supposed, marriage without fear of their innermost thoughts being open to intrusion by a jealous husband or, if it came to it, Ministry busybodies. But judging by the expression on Bella’s face it wasn’t the most comfortable experience. She wondered what secrets Bella would keep from their mother, if only she could with Mama digging through her brain like a niffler in search of treasure.

Watching Bella screw up her eyes and grind her teeth, Andromeda thought her sister was going about it all wrong. From what she’d read, Occlumency only worked if the one being interrogated continued to act natural. Bella was trying to fight it, she could see, and even if she succeeded in blocking Mama from reading her thoughts her visible struggle against the magic was an obvious sign she had something to hide. You were supposed to remain calm and focus on what you wanted the Legilimens to believe, ideally something as close to the truth as possible so they wouldn’t suspect you were holding anything back. After she’d started talking to Ted again, Andromeda had mentioned Bella’s Occlumency lessons to him and he’d wanted to know what it was. Unable to give him a proper answer without doing some research, she had started reading up on Occlumency in the library. It was interesting, and although Andromeda wasn’t their mother’s current target, she wanted to master it as quickly as possible. It wasn’t exactly that she had a guilty conscience – after all, when you got down to it, what was actually so wrong about being kind to Muggle-borns? But she suspected Mama wouldn’t be too keen. It was clear to Andromeda that her mother’s new scheme had a double purpose – to snoop on whatever her eldest daughter might keep from her even as she taught her to hide it.

“For what reason did you receive the detention?” Mama was asking Bella, who was slumped down on the uncomfortable desk chair, scowling and panting.  
“Didn’t hand in my Transfiguration essay on time” Bellatrix muttered, blushing darkly.  
“I see”, said Druella “You will keep practising emptying your mind until I can no longer see that memory. Plenty of wizards can do this without a wand, you know, and without the incantation you may not realise that your mind is being penetrated until it is already under attack.”

Bella grunted acknowledgement, heaved herself out of the chair, and with a quick glance at Druella to confirm her dismissal, slouched out of the study. Andromeda, her Transfiguration textbook propped up on her knees, went back to pretending to do her own homework. She’d actually finished McGonagall’s book report the day before, but Mama didn’t know that and anyway, she was putting off starting her Herbology essay. Realising her mother was looking at her, she looked up from the book with a smile.

“Yes, Mama?” she asked, seeing her mother’s thoughtful expression. Thus far she had not received any detentions, and therefore was beyond reproach compared to Bella, who by this point in her first year had already been hauled up in front of the caretaker for duelling in the corridors. Thus, Andromeda was totally unprepared when Druella, her lips pursed pensively, murmured “Hmm… I wonder… You’re a little young, but it pays to start early – _Legilimens!_”

Andromeda gasped and slid to the floor as the spell hit her and images whirled through her head.

_It was September, and she was staggering over to the Slytherin table, as Rodolphus Lestrange checked his watch._  
“What was that about?”  
“Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Nearly a Hatstall!”  
The image dissolved…

_It was October, and she couldn’t transfigure a beetle into a button. Frustrated, she bit her lip as she watched the button buzz away across the common room, the sign of her failure._

_Halloween, and she watched with jealousy as Donna dithered over a choice of beautiful outfits. Andromeda would have to wear her hideous best dress robes again.  
_Then…

_“Hey, ‘Dromeda, dance with…”_

_NO! _That memory was personal, she wasn’t going to let Mama see that. Dimly aware of what she was doing, rather than fighting as Bella had done, she forced herself to think of something else, something safer.

_Molly, pinning her hair up over the transfigured rat. Molly, lending her the turquoise dress. Molly, laughing and saying “Turns out we blood traitors aren’t raised so differently, hm?”  
_The image changed again:

_It was November, the day they had learned the Muggle President had been killed. Andromeda was on top of the Astronomy Tower, waiting. She heard the door click as it swung open, and she turned to see–_

_Molly, she thought. Mollymollymollymollymolly…_

_“Skeeter grassed, you know”_

As the Andromeda on the floor of her father’s study watched, the Andromeda in her memory whirled to face the speaker. To her relief, the figure resolved itself into a stocky girl with wild red hair.

_“It was Margaret Skeeter who told Bellatrix you were with us, at the dance. ‘Dromeda, I’m so sorry, if I’d known she was such a stirrer I’d never’ve let her hang out with us all.”_  
“Oh…”  
Then they were shaking hands, as Molly quirked an eyebrow. Distantly Andromeda realised Molly’s eyes shouldn’t be grey, but it was too late to change that, and she doubted Mama would notice.

_“Friends” they agreed. Then…  
“Are you a blood traitor?”  
_Silence. Andromeda, inventing wildly, didn’t know how to fill in this part of the memory. Then:  
_“OF COURSE NOT!” but, compensating for the sudden change in tone, Andromeda heard herself add “…But I don’t see why I can’t hang out with one.”_

Gasping, Andromeda opened her eyes. She was curled up on the rug between the armchair and the desk, and her mother was holding out a hand to help her to her feet. Andromeda collapsed back into the armchair, not daring to meet Druella’s eyes. _What did she see? _She wondered, frantically. _What does she know? _As Andromeda tried to compose herself and stop shaking – she understood now why Bella always looked so spaced-out after these sessions, the probing effects of the spell had been one of the worst sensations she had ever experienced – she heard her mother say her name.

“Andromeda.” Although she was no longer under the spell, more images came unbidden into her mind – disgrace, being locked in her room, maybe even disowned – what if Mama had seen right through her? What if she knew about her friendship with Ted, what she’d told him? Beginning to tremble all over again, she met her mother’s bright black eyes. Her expression was inscrutable behind the half-moon pince-nez she wore to read in the evenings. Then, Druella spoke again.

“You’re friends with the Prewett girl.”

It was all Andromeda could do not to let out an audible sigh of relief. If this was the front-page story of her mother’s investigation, she couldn’t have seen anything about Ted. Instead, she gave a shy nod, and dropped her eyes again.

“Yes”, she admitted, in what she hoped was a picture of shame and contrition. She knew her mother couldn’t really object to the friendship, since the Prewetts were a respected family and even distant relatives. But Mama didn’t need to know she knew that. There was a beat of silence.

“Very well. You needn’t hide that from me. Keep her close, it pays to have friends on the other side of the political spectrum. Just don’t let any of her family’s muggle-loving ideas go to your head.” _Now _Andromeda let the sigh of relief escape her.  
“I won’t”, she lied, and prayed her mother didn’t try the spell again. She wasn’t sure she could beat it twice. Her mother didn’t know any better, but she knew Molly wouldn’t have called her ‘Dromeda. And the voice that had echoed through her head – “Are you a blood traitor” – had not been Molly’s.  
“Good. Now, I believe if you go to the kitchen you will find Beastie has been making mince pies. Eat one, the sugar will do you good.” Andromeda, like Bellatrix, recognised a dismissal when she heard it. As her mother picked up the _Daily Prophet _from the desk and sat back to read, Andromeda remembered something. An owl had arrived for her that morning – she needed to write back to Ted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time no update! I'm so sorry, guys, life got ahead of me. Next chapter is already fully written, though, so that'll be out in a few days. Hope you enjoyed, as always feel free to leave kudos and comments! xx


	13. Please Mr. Postman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Letters exchanged in December of 1963

_19th Dec. ‘63 _ _ Miss Andromeda Black,_  
_Bedroom Overlooking the Square,_  
_7½ Sloane Square,_  
_Chelsea,_  
_London_

_Wotcher Dromeda,_

_How’s your Christmas going? I had to hire this owl at the post office at Diagon Alley, I wasn’t sure Royal Mail would deliver to your house, and anyway I reckoned it was best this went straight to you in case your old folks got funny about it. He’s under order’s to head back to the post office once this is delivered, but if you write back with your owl I can send a reply with him. I’m doing OK, Mum and Dad were pleased to have me back but a bit disappointed to learn we can’t do any magic at home. I think Mum was hoping I’d be able to do the laundry by magic, but no such luck. Thing’s are a bit lonely here, none of my old mates from primary school want to hang out since they heard I went to boarding school – Mum and Dad had to tell everyone I got a <strike>scolarship</strike> scholarship to a Muggle private school and now they think I’m stuck up. Wish I had sibling’s – can’t say I envy you Bellatrix but you said the younger one is all right._

_I’m looking forward to Christmas, Dad hinted he’d ordered something from Diagon Alley for me, dunno how but I spose the Post Office must have links with the Muggle post. Is Christmas different in wizarding house’s? I guess you’ve got nothing to compare with though. The shop is doing well, Dad’s offering a deal for people to buy all their veg for Christmas dinner at a fat discount, so we’re hoping to turn a tidy profit from that. That and Dad overordered sprout’s, Mum always tries to tell him they won’t be that popular but he never believes her._

_How are Bellatrix’s occlewhatsit lesson’s going? You said your Mum was gonna teach her over the holidays? And have you seen anyone else from school? I know Molly and Arthur both live way out in the West Country somewhere but what about your friend Donna? I met her brother Kingsley on the train back, he said they lived in London. He seemed nice, smart kind of bloke, typical Ravenclaw I guess. Speaking of London, any chance we could meet up over the hol’s? I know it’s risky without Molly there and all that but we could always meet up somewhere in Muggle London, it’s not like we’d bump into your family there. Heck, you could come to mine if you want it’s not like I live that far away._

_Hope you’re having a good holiday, give Bellatrix my love (kidding! I’m kidding! I like my kneecaps the way round they are now) and if we don’t meet up before see you on the train back at New Year._

_Ta ta for now,_

_Ted_

_P.S. return address is:_  
_274 Bethnal Green Road,_  
_Bethnal Green,_  
_London_  
_E2 0AJ_

*

_21st of December 1963 Belladonna Shacklebolt_

_Edward Tonks,_  
_274 Bethnal Green Road,_  
_Bethnal Green,_  
_London_  
_E20AJ_

_Ted,_

_Thank you for your letter. What are the letters and numbers at the end of your address for? I copied them down as you wrote them, but I’ve never seen an address with two numbers before. Ignore Donna’s name at the top of the letter, it’s just in case Mama saw the envelope. Damocles knows who it’s really for, though - please give him some water before you send him back. Things are OK here, but you won’t believe what happened in Bellatrix’s Occlumency lesson! Mama decided to test me, too, you have no idea how horrible it is to have someone digging around in your brain, I wish she’d warned me. I thought I was in trouble for sure, I didn’t know what she’d seen, but I just tried the same thing we’ve been doing for Bella – thought really hard about Molly and her brothers, and I think it must have worked. I’m guessing Mama thought they were scandalous enough that I wasn’t hiding anything else, because she didn’t look any further. Luckily she says I’m still allowed to see them so long as I don’t let them ‘corrupt’ me, because the Prewetts are a respectable family and it’s good to have ‘allies on the other side’ and all that. I guess that means I can do Occlumency now? I don’t know, I hope she doesn’t test me again._

_You asked about Christmas? Like you said, I don’t know what a Muggle Christmas is like so I’m not sure what all the differences are. I suppose Muggles can’t have fairies as decorations, though? I know magical creatures are subject to the Statute of Secrecy. Arthur says Muggles’ presents are delivered by elves, too, but surely house-elves aren’t allowed in Muggle houses either? I’m not sure where he got the idea. Do you have crackers? I suppose without Extension or Combustion charms they wouldn’t be very impressive, you’d only be able to fit something very small and they wouldn’t go bang. I know Muggles have carols, though, because my Uncle Orion put up a load of Muggle-repelling charms on his house after some Muggle carol singers turned up outside one year and my Aunt Walburga nearly cursed them._

_As for people from school, the Lestranges came round for dinner yesterday (huzzah). Next time I might just put a vomiting jinx on myself and say I’m too ill to socialise that evening – too bad there aren’t any other wizards around your house, you know the Ministry doesn’t actually know whether we’re doing magic? There’s a charm on all underage witches and wizards to check, but it only registers what magic is done around us, so anyone with Wizarding parents they just assume it’s an adult doing the spell. Anyway, Papa knows the Lestranges’ father from work, and he kept going on about some cause he’s involved with, trying to get Papa to lend some support I suppose. I think Donna might be meeting Bella and me to do some Christmas shopping tomorrow, but I’m waiting for an owl back from her. And I’m really sorry, Ted, but I’ve never been to Muggle London before except passing through, and even then I’m not strictly allowed out without a chaperone. The family elf counts, but she’s probably under orders to report everything back to my parents, and we can’t risk it. I will try to give Bella the slip on the train back so I can sit with you and Molly, though, <strike>I</strike> <strike>can’t wait</strike> <strike>miss you</strike> I’m looking forward to seeing you when we get back._

_Have a good Christmas, I’ll write again when I can get Narcissa off my back for five minutes._

_Merry Christmas,  
Andromeda_

*

_23rd Dec. ‘63 Miss Andromeda Black,_  
_Bedroom Overlooking the Square,_  
_7½ Sloane Square,_  
_Chelsea,_  
_London_

_Dear Dromeda,_

_Blimey, if my parent’s were reading my mind like that I think I’d run away, that can’t be legal, surely? I’m really sorry that happened to you, but I guess it’s good you managed to stand up to it? The thing at the end of my address is a postcode, I suppose wizard’s don’t have them. It helps the Muggle postman find the house more easily, but thinking about it owls probably don’t need them. Speaking of, I’ve never seen your owl up close before, he’s gear! I’ve given him some water in one of Mum’s ashtray’s, I promise I washed it out first. Yes Muggles have crackers too, and they do go bang (they have gunpowder on a stick inside) but you’re right the little present’s are a bit naff. Do wizard’s decorate the tree with _actual _fairies? We have electric fairy light’s, do fairies glow the same way? Is that where that comes from?_

_Shame we can’t meet up, but enjoy Christmas, I hope you get some cool present’s!_

_Best,  
Ted_

_P.S. That thing about underage magic is so unfair! Can’t anyone come up with a better system?_

_*_

_26th of December 1963 Molly Prewett_

_Ted Tonks,_  
_274 Bethnal Green Road,_  
_Bethnal Green,_  
_London_  
  


_Dear Ted,_

_Did you have a good Christmas? Ours was great, actually! We spent it at our cousins’ house which can be a bit hit and miss, but I had a lovely time! Our cousins are a lot younger than us – Sirius is four and Regulus is two. Regulus is quite sweet, though boring, but Sirius is anything but! My uncle and aunt make my parents look positively chilled out, but that hasn’t cowed Sirius at all. He’s a little terror, and I love him for it. By the time we sat down to Christmas dinner he had:_

  * _Tried to dangle his brother out of the window_
  * _Pulled Cissy’s plait_
  * _Opened his presents early, found some chocolate and started smearing it on the carpet_
  * _When none of that got the attention he wanted, picked Christmas morning to do his first bit of definite magic (he summoned a sugar rose down off the tree), earning a grudging family celebration and meaning he got away with all the other chaos_

_Complete mayhem, way better than Christmas last year. Did you get some good presents? What was the thing from your Dad in the end? I got a set of new quills (griffin feathers, they’re supposed to help with handwriting), new dress robes (definitely nicer than my old ones but my parents don’t know I’ve got better ones from Molly), some sweets and books. Bellatrix got a new broom, which means I’ve got her old one. The Cleansweep Six just came out and Bella’s been nagging Mama and Papa for ages, so they finally got her one. The Five is all right, better than my old Comet, but as I can’t take it to school anyway I may be asking for a new one by the time we’re actually allowed our own brooms. We’re home now, and Bellatrix’s Occlumency lessons are making slow progress – I don’t see what’s so difficult about it if just thinking of something mildly incriminating so Mama thought that was all I had to hide worked for me. Thankfully Mama hasn’t tested me again, I think she was just being nosy before, she doesn’t really want to teach me yet._

_Donna didn’t come shopping with us in the end, said she was busy. Have you seen anyone from Hogwarts lately?_

_Thank you for looking after Damocles, I think he’s glad of the exercise._

_Wishing you a happy New Year,  
Andromeda_

_P.S. When we get back I’m teaching you how to use an apostrophe. You’d probably find your Charms marks go up if you just punctuated the essays properly!_

_*_

_28th Dec. ’63 Miss Andromeda Black,_  
_Bedroom Overlooking the Square,_  
_7½ Sloane Square,_  
_Chelsea,_  
_London_

_Dear Dromeda,_

_I know how to use apostrophe’s, cheeky! Your cousin sounds like a riot. Our Christmas was good too, my uncle and aunt came over but they don’t have kids. You’ll never guess what Dad got me! That thing he ordered from Diagon Alley was a magical camera, and it comes with a bunch of vial’s of a potion that makes picture’s move, like the one’s in the _Daily Prophet! _Also, turns out Molly’s been secretly knitting me a Hufflepuff jumper since October, cos that’s what I got from her. I _thought _she was carting a lot of yellow wool around with her. The quill’s that improve your handwriting sound cool, it’s a shame you can’t bring the broom to school with you, though. I wish I was as good at flying as you, you make it look easy even on the school brooms and I know everyone <strike>say’s</strike> <strike>says</strike> say’s they’re rubbish._

_I haven’t seen anyone from school, but I’ve had letter’s from Molly and Arthur, plus my housemate’s. How about you?_

_Can’t wait to see you on the train, happy New Year!_

_Stay groovy,  
Ted_

_P.S. Nosy! I’ll say!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Hope you liked this update, please leave kudos/comment if you enjoyed. Not sure when the next chapter will be out as life is quite busy right now but I will do my best! xx


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